In Bloom
by XWaltzforVenusX
Summary: RyanTaylor. Taylor goes to Berkeley, and ends up as a Teaching Assistant for a certain law professor...
1. Chapter 1

_I'm not quite sure how to start this Author's Note, so I guess I'll just give some details. Taylor never went to Harbor, instead her mother sent her to boarding school. After graduation, she goes to Berkeley for college, and takes up a teaching assistant position with a certain law professor…_

_And for those of you who care: my musical inspiration for this are the albums 'Nevermind' and 'In Utero' by Nirvana. It's a surprisingly upbeat fic for such angsty music… the title of this story is the title of one of their songs ('In Bloom', off 'Nevermind')._

* * *

Taylor Townsend was _bored_.

"There has to be something," she begged. "Please, Mrs. Johansson."

The woman sighed, leafing through some papers. "I'm sorry, Taylor, but there just aren't any teaching assistant positions in the psychology or language departments."

"Well, can't I go to another one then?" she asked hopelessly. "I mean, I know I probably won't have taken the class, but you know how good of a student I am."

The woman sighed again. "I do have an opening for a TA for one of the law professors."

"Great!" Taylor clapped her hands excitedly. "I love law! Well, that sounds weird, but I'm totally willing to learn about legal stuff. That way, if anything like the whole Henri-Michel debacle happens again…" she trailed off, noticing the strange look she got from her counselor. "Alright. Well. I'll take it."

"He has to choose you, you know. You don't just automatically get the job. I'm sure there are law students who want to work with him. His classes are quite popular."

"Who is it?" Taylor asked, curious.

"You know I'm not allowed to tell you until he has signed off on the papers and agreed to hire you."

"Right. Well, thank you again, Mrs. Johansson!" She stood up, grabbed her purse and made her way out of the counselor's office.

She sighed when she got outside, looking around at the Berkeley campus. She still felt like she was in high school sometimes: no friends, trying to fill that void with work, work, work.

* * *

Sandy looked over the files of the students who had put in to be his TA. Mathew Samuels… grades too low. Martha Bernheim… too emotional. Spencer Troost… good Lord, that kid was awful. Taylor Townsend… he paused at the name. Sandy Cohen remembered every student that had taken his classes these two years at Berkeley, and he was sure that Taylor Townsend was not one of them. Maybe her file got mixed in…

He opened it, curious. Psychology major with minors in French and Korean. That was an interesting combination. He glanced at the comment section on the request form. Where most students listed all of their achievements, and told him how much they loved law, all she had written was '_I'm so bored._'

Sandy smiled, and that alone made him pause. He had chosen his last TA based on pure academics, but the boy had been so dull. Seriously, the guy had the sense of humor of a moldy sponge.

Taylor Townsend's file went into his 'maybe' pile – which so far included no one else. He would look into her academics later.

* * *

Taylor jumped up and down, squealing and clapping her hands excitedly. She paused only to press the delete button on her answering machine, before resuming the celebration. She had gotten the position. She'd heard about Professor Cohen, even though he wasn't in her line of schooling. Other students thought he was hilarious, as well as brilliant.

* * *

Sandy looked up from his paperwork, "come in!" He stood up as the door opened, and walked over to the nervous girl, shaking her hand. He was glad to note that, despite her hesitation, her hand was strong and firm. Good. She'd need to be tough if she wanted to work with him. He had an overwhelming amount of classes, filled to capacity. That was a lot of students, and a lot of papers to grade.

They sat down, and he began filling in what her job entailed: grading papers, doing research, helping during class when she could. She listened intently, absorbing everything.

When she was gone, later, he smiled. It seemed he had made a good choice. The girl was bright, cheery, and she kind of reminded him of Seth.

* * *

"You got a TA position with Professor Cohen?" her roommate asked incredulously. Taylor nodded happily. "Wow. The guy's a little old for me, but he's still a fox. I can't believe you're working with _the_ Sandy Cohen."

* * *

"Hi," she poked her head tentatively around the door. Professor Cohen lifted his head and smiled at her.

"Come in, Taylor." She sat down on the chair opposite him, folding her legs demurely at the ankles – '_like_ _a proper lady'_, her mother's voice rang in her head. "I'm glad you decided to continue on," he grinned at her. She smiled back, ducking her head.

"I'm just glad you decided to keep me, Professor Cohen."

"Please, call me Sandy. Professor Cohen makes me sound too…"

"Old?" she supplied helpfully, and giggled at the jokingly angry look he gave her.

"I was going to say it reminds me too much that I work for 'the man' now."

* * *

"Sandy, I really think you need to screen some students before you let them take your class," Taylor groaned, head resting in her left hand, a red pen in her right. "I mean, this is horrible!" she gestured emphatically at the stack of papers in front of her.

Sandy laughed, looking up from a legal book. "Unfortunately I can't do that. Something about discrimination…"

"Ok, but on question 5, the one where you ask them to define _habeas corpus_? This guy wrote 'it's when people get in trouble for keeping dead bodies in their basement'." Sandy gave a loud laugh.

"Who was that? Marcel again?" He laughed harder when Taylor nodded in affirmation. The boy was a train wreck.

"But shouldn't there be some sort of screening process for psychopaths?" she questioned. "I mean, this guy talks an awful lot about dead bodies…"

A knock came at the door. "Come in," Sandy called, suppressing his laughter. It wouldn't be good if the head of his department came in to find them laughing over tests.

A blonde boy stuck his head in. "Hey Sandy, I just wanted to know if you were free for lunch, cause I don't go back to class till one." He seemed to notice the girl in the room. "Oh, sorry. I forgot your students had a test yesterday." Sandy nodded sadly.

"It's ok," Taylor said, looking at Sandy, her back to the door. "You can go. If you want, I'll stay here and finish these."

"I can't ask you to do that," he said sincerely, but she waved her hands at him.

"Go." When he hesitated she sighed in exasperation. "What am I going to do? Set the place on fire? Sandy, you've given me the answer key to the test, I can't really go wrong. And I'll answer your phone, and say you're in a very serious meeting – it'll make you sound important. If I have any questions about the test, I'll leave them on your desk with a post-it." She paused, raising one eyebrow at him.

Sandy held up his hands in defeat, smiling broadly. "Fine, fine, I see when I'm not wanted. Alright, kiddo," he spoke to the boy at the door. "Let's go. What do you want? Cafeteria food, or that nice little Italian man with the cart?"

The boy laughed. "Cart, definitely."

"You're right. The guy might not have the best personal hygiene, but he makes some damn good Panini." They were almost out the door when Sandy stopped. "Oh! I almost forgot to introduce you two. How rude," he dragged the boy back inside. "Ryan, this is Taylor Townsend, she's my new Teaching Assistant. Taylor, this is my son, Ryan."

The girl turned and smiled at the blonde boy standing in the doorway. "Hi," she stood up, extending her hand, "nice to meet you." He shook it, nodding, suddenly stiff.

"You too." At least he was polite.

"Well, let's go," the Sandy cut in brightly. "Oh, Taylor, you want me to pick you up a sandwich?" he asked over his shoulder.

"From the dirty Italian guy with a cart? No thanks."

* * *

"So how's the new TA?" Ryan asked, unwrapping his sandwich. "Better than Jerry?"

Sandy groaned, "I think anyone would be better than Jerry." He took a huge bite, and began speaking through the mouthful, "but she's great so far. Very organized," he swallowed, gulping down some coffee. "And she's funny. It's nice to have some humor around here."

"Hey," Ryan held out a finger in mock warning. "I'm funny."

"You're getting better," Sandy amended, holding up his hands. "You've definitely changed these past two years," Sandy looked at him, smiling. "I mean, you barely brood anymore. And I don't think you've gotten into a fist fight in… days at least."

* * *

Taylor took a sip of water, looking around Sandy's office. She was taking a break from grading tests, and this was the first time she was really able to study the place. There were loads of law books on the shelves that were covering most of the walls. She liked it in here, lots of dark wood and deep green upholstery. Very library-like. She noticed a picture frame on his desk, and picked it up.

His wife was gorgeous, and she was holding a baby girl in her arms. Taylor smiled at his daughter, then shifted her glance to the two boys off to the side. The one was dark; tall with curly hair. The other was blonde and shorter, stockier. He was the one she had met today. Studying the photograph, she noticed that the blonde one – Ryan – didn't look like either one of his parents. The darker boy took after his father - _that_ resemblance was uncanny. But even though Sandy's wife was blonde, the other son didn't look like her either.

* * *

"We adopted him," Sandy explained. She had asked how his lunch was, and he had launched into a rant about his son.

"I was wondering," she mused, not looking up from the test, "he doesn't look a thing like you or your wife." There was silence, and she looked up sheepishly. "I saw the picture," she pointed at the frame on his desk. He shook his head.

"Not even a week working for me and you're snooping already. Ah, well, at least all the important things are locked away."

"That's until I find the key," she grinned at him, feeling completely comfortable. He grinned back.

* * *

There was a knock at the door, and Sandy called out an invitation. Taylor was standing at the corner bookcase, looking up some weird legal precedent in one of the huge law books.

"I brought food." There was a rustle of bags as Taylor looked up to see Sandy's son drop a pack of food on the desk, placing a crate of drinks down too. "I knew you had papers due, so I figured you'd need some nourishment."

"You're a life saver," Sandy groaned, tearing into the bag furiously. "Are there bagels?" He grinned when his son nodded. "Taylor," Sandy called, "come eat."

She dropped the book gratefully, coming over to fall wearily into the unoccupied chair. Sandy sat behind his desk while the two students sat on the other side. Sandy tossed her a hoagie, and she unwrapped it carefully. Italian. She was thankful. Sandy ate some weird sandwiches, but this one seemed normal. "So, Ryan," she looked over at the boy, "what's your major?"

"Architecture," he swallowed politely before answering.

"Kid's an architectural genius," Sandy declared, not bothering to clear the food from his mouth.

"Sandy," Ryan protested, ducking his head with a smile. He called his father Sandy, Taylor noted, filing it away for further use. That's what she was doing now, building this boy's file in her head. That's how she figured people out: she noted small things about them that helped her categorize them. Her psych teachers loved her.

"Too much math for me," she shook her head, biting into the sandwich. "I mean, it's not that I'm _bad_ at math, per-se, but it's just too many numbers. I seem to mix them up a lot."

"Yeah, that could be bad," Ryan joked, "you could hurt people if your calculations are wrong."

"Well, that's what I need," she declared, "another way to get people injured. I seem to be accident prone," she explained. The two men stared at her before bursting into laughter.

* * *

"He's nice," Taylor smiled, getting back to work. Ryan had gone to his next class.

"He's a good kid," Sandy's tone was affectionate.

"You say that like you expect me to think otherwise," she noted, flipping to the index of the law book. Sandy sighed dramatically.

"Don't Psych 101 me, little lady," he pointed a finger at her, and she giggled. "But yes, most people tend to think the worst of him. He's from Chino, originally." He gave her a knowing look when she glanced up, raising an eyebrow. "See? Everyone expects the worst. And yes, his father and brother were in jail, and his mom abandoned him for alcohol…" the man paused, realizing he was speaking too much. "You're too easy to talk to, you know that?" he accused, laughing a little.

"Don't worry," Taylor smiled reassuringly at him. "I won't tell. And I won't hold it against him. If there's anything I've learned, it's that your birth parents don't define you." He shot her a curious look, but she didn't say anything else.

_

* * *

_

Ok, I'm not exactly sure what a TA actually does, so I hope I got it kind of right. If I didn't… oh well!

_Review, it's like crack to me._

_p.s. – I'm having some trouble writing the next chapter of 'Newport Living', so it might be a while…_


	2. Chapter 2

_I guess I should warn people that this __fic__ jumps around a lot. __As in timelines.__ I can't seem to write a continuous chapter story for the life of me. So yes, chapter 1 took place in the beginning of the year, and now it's Thanksgiving. So sue me (actually, please don't. I just went shopping, so I have no money left… all I have is my new clothes, a lot of books, and this precious laptop)._

_And this chapter is dedicated to __ORy__, for bugging the crap out of me until I posted…_

* * *

"So what are you up to for Thanksgiving?" Sandy asked. The two were in the process of creating the pre-break test in his office. Multiple - empty - cups of coffee littered the desk and bookshelf, and food wrappers filled the trashcan.

"Nothing really. Probably just catching up on some homework. If you want, I'll grade the tests…" she stopped when she saw Sandy looking at her, almost horrified. "What?"

"You want to _work_ while school is on break? Don't you have places to be? Family to see? Sorry, didn't mean that to rhyme."

Taylor shrugged. "My mom is in some Mexican resort with her newest 'client'," she made air quotes, "and my dad is having Thanksgiving with his new family, who has no idea I even exist. Plus, I get so _bored_ when I have nothing to do." She went back to writing out sample questions.

Sandy sat silent for a moment. "I've got to make a call," he said casually, leaving to room. Taylor waved 'bye' to him, not really noticing.

He entered a few minutes later, grinning. "So you're not doing anything for Thanksgiving at all with your family?" Taylor frowned a little, shaking her head no. Hadn't he asked that already? "Great. It's settled then. You'll come over to Casa de Cohen for the holiday." He looked excited as he sat back down.

"What? Sandy, I couldn't…"

"Nonsense, of course you can," he was still grinning, ignoring her protests. Taylor mumbled something about intruding, angering his wife, not wanting to impose. Sandy waved her questions away. "I already spoke to the wife. She thinks it's great. And my other son Seth - and his girlfriend Summer - are coming home from Rhode Island, and you'll like them. Plus you've _got_ to meet Sophie," he looked affectionately at the photo of his daughter that sat on the desk.

Taylor smiled at the picture. "She _is_ adorable."

"That's because she takes after her mother. So you're coming?"

Taylor sighed, looking at the huge grin on his face and knowing it was pointless to argue. Sandy Cohen was nothing if not persuasive. "Yes, I'll come."

* * *

She looked up nervously at the house, comparing it to the address scribbled on the piece of paper in her hand. It was the same, so she steeled herself and knocked on the door. The place was quaint, but she knew the family was originally from Newport, where she herself hailed from. She knew Sandy was ok, as was Ryan, but they had both grown up in poor neighborhoods. She hoped his wife and other son – and the other son's girlfriend – weren't snobby rich people. People like her mother. The door opened, and the blonde woman from the picture looked at her.

"You must be Taylor," a warm smile broke over her face, and she ushered the startled girl inside.

"Hi, Mrs. Cohen," she began, not really knowing what to say.

"Call me Kirsten," the older woman waved away her protests, leading her through the living room and into the kitchen.

"Taylor!" Sandy stood up from the table, coming over to greet her. She smiled shyly, still unsure of herself. "Welcome!"

"Thank you for inviting me," she told them both, ducking her head. Sandy waved her off, and Kirsten smiled again.

"Thank you for coming. We always love having people over."

"Now, Taylor," Sandy began, putting an arm around his wife. It was adorable, Taylor thought, the way they looked at each other. "I doubt you want to hang out with us old people," his wife shot him a mock glare. "Ryan, Seth and Summer are in the guest bedroom. Why don't you go say hi?"

Taylor nodded, although it was the last thing she wanted. She was already incredibly uncomfortable, and she barely knew Ryan, and she didn't know the other two at all. But she didn't want to be rude, so she headed off towards the stairs, making her way up. She didn't have to guess which room they were in – she could hear the TV on.

"Hi," she peeked in at the group inside. Ryan and the boy from the picture – Seth – were sitting on the floor, playing video games. There was a girl she had never seen before sitting on the bed behind them, reading a magazine. They all looked up at her.

"Taylor," Ryan's voice was a greeting, so she stepped inside fully. "Guys, this is Taylor, Sandy's Teaching Assistant."

"Hey," Seth nodded at her from the floor. The girl on the bed looked up, and smiled at her. Taylor suddenly felt ten times better.

"Hi, I'm Summer," she shifted on the bed, making room for Taylor. "I'm so glad Mr. Cohen invited you. It'll be nice to have another girl here. There's too much testosterone." She paused, crinkling her nose, "although, most of that's from Ryan…"

"Hey!" Seth protested loudly from the floor, and Taylor started to giggle, joined by Ryan and Summer. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

She stared at her plate throughout dinner, totally out of place. She'd never had a holiday like this. Hell, she'd never had a _dinner_ like this. Everyone was talking and laughing like they actually liked each other. There were no snide remarks about her weight, no uncomfortable silences. Just warm voices and the clanking of dishes.

"So Taylor," Summer was sitting across from her, and Taylor looked up at the other girl. "Where are you from?"

"Newport," she replied, stirring her mashed potatoes around.

"Really?" Summer was incredulous. "That's where we're from. How come I don't know you?" Taylor shrugged.

"Mother sent me to boarding school. She said it was to 'better my education', but I think it was because she didn't want men to know she had a kid. Did you go to Harbor?"

"Yeah, we all did. It's weird that we lived in the same place, but never met."

"I didn't go out much," Taylor said to her plate. Summer was silent, looking at her with a searching, calculating expression.

* * *

"Taylor!"

She paused, looking around in confusion. Who would be yelling her name? She didn't have any friends here… Ryan caught up with her, breathing irregular from running.

"Ryan, hi," she glanced around again, wondering why he was talking to her. "Did Sandy need something? Are there papers to grade? Does he need me to research something? How-"

"Taylor." His voice was commanding, and she shut her mouth. "I just came to say hi."

"Oh. Um, hi." She stood awkwardly, not sure how this whole friend thing worked. With Sandy she was fine; she always did better talking to adults than she did to people her own age. So when she and Sandy and Ryan all ate lunch together, she was fine. But Ryan alone? What was she supposed to say?

"You going to the dining hall?" he asked, nodding his head towards the building in front of them.

"No, actually. Back to the dorms, I need to get some studying done," she waved the book she was carrying dejectedly. "Math's going to kill me." He grabbed the book from her hand, taking a better look at the cover.

"Hey, calculus. I took this last semester, it's not so bad." She snorted, and he began to laugh.

"Here," he steered her towards the dining hall, "come eat with me, and I'll help you."

"Fine, but if I fail my test because I didn't get to study, you have to write me a note that says I'm not responsible for the academic failure." He chuckled, pushing her through the doors and towards the food.

* * *

"See, not so bad," he pointed his fork at her, and she rolled her eyes.

"You Cohens have a problem with food and talking," she scrunched her nose up in mock disgust.

"It's Atwood, actually," he looked down uncomfortably. "I never officially changed it." Taylor closed the math book, turning to face him better.

"How did it happen?"

Ryan looked up at her warily, searching her for some sort of agenda. She must have passed whatever test he was giving her, because he took a deep breath. "Well, it happened the summer before my sophomore year in high school. My brother – Trey, not Seth – was bored, so he suggested we steal this car…

* * *

Taylor sat on the bed listening intently.

"…so they kicked her out, because she was some sort of threat to the community."

"Even though she only shot Trey to help you?"

Ryan nodded, shifting on the bed. "Then the Dean of Discipline, this huge bastard, banned her from campus, and then expelled me when I punched him…"

"Woah, slow down. Why were you punching a Dean?" Taylor grinned when he had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Remember, we covered the whole rage slash hero complex."

"Right," she nodded wisely, then gestured for him to continue.

"So she went to Newport Union – public school – and she met this kid Johnny…" he broke off.

"She dumped you for him, didn't she?"

"Yeah. She said he 'got her whole experience', or some other bull. Anyway, I was readmitted back to Harbor – Sandy argued for me – but we couldn't get her back in, even when they found Hess dating one of the students. So she dumped me for Johnny, but then they had a fight, and she started dating his big surfing rival, Volchok. Except that Volchok was pretty heavy into drugs…"

"And Marissa already had an alcohol problem…" Taylor realized, shaking her head sadly.

"She overdosed about two months before graduation."

"I'm so sorry," Taylor whispered, getting off his roommates bed and coming to sit down next to him. "That must have been awful." He shrugged.

"I was angry at her. For using me, and for getting mixed up in that stuff after all I did for her. But…"

"Ryan, it's only natural for you to feel guilty. Especially since you spent three years trying to save her." He nodded uncomfortably.

"Summer was worse off than me, I think," he began, finding it easier to talk about someone else. "She went into seclusion for a while… only Seth's insane persistence made her come out again."

"And how did you deal?" she prodded, noticing his change of topic.

"I… got into a few fights. With strangers. For money." He waited for her response, looking down at the sheets. He was startled when she began to laugh.

"I'm sorry," she held up her hands in apology, but couldn't stop laughing. "It just sounds so ridiculous!" He watched her incredulously for a few seconds, before starting to grin.

"Yeah, a little. Sandy finally snapped me out of it in time for graduation, and… here I am." He looked over at her, ducking his head a little, "sorry, I feel like I've been talking for hours. I didn't mean to bore you."

"That wasn't' boring. That was some story," she breathed, shaking her head. "Fights, shootings, pregnant ex-girlfriends, dying grandfathers, rehab. I sure missed a lot."

"Yeah, I heard you grew up in Newport. Why didn't you go to Harbor with us?"

She sighed, "my mother. She didn't want her boy-toys to know that she had a daughter, saying it turned men off. Something about stretching, I didn't really listen."

"So how was boarding school?" he asked. "Marissa's little sister Kaitlin goes to one. Or used to, actually. Now she goes to Harbor."

"Boarding school was… ok, picture a bunch of students living in the same building all year." Ryan winced, "all those hormones and anger, it was terrible. Everyone knew each other, and they only seemed to agree on one thing."

"And that was…"

"Their hatred of me."

"What?" he asked, leaning back against his pillows.

"Yeah. Apparently people think I'm crazy."

"You? Crazy? No," she laughed at the sarcasm in his voice. "You're just… eccentric." She tugged the pillow out from under his head and hit him with it. He laughed, shielding his head with one arm while trying to grab the pillow back with the other.

* * *

"We're going to be doing a little experiment," Sandy called loudly, making sure the sound reached the back of the lecture hall. He grinned over at the two teenagers standing to his left. "Now, I broke you all into groups and gave you some mock court cases. You were assigned to represent either the plaintiff or the defendant. I hope you've all done your work, because today, as a surprise, you'll have to present these cases. I will be the judge, and my little helpers," he gestured at the two, "will be the jury. See, that's the hard part," he explained, beginning to pace. "See me? I know my legal stuff, so I pretty much already have an opinion about all the cases. These two are legal idiots," the class laughed. "Just like real juries. With a real jury, you can't use all the fancy legal jargon, because they _won't understand_. That's what I'm testing you on today. Group A, you'll begin." Four students stood, looking incredibly nervous, and made their way down to the front.

Ryan and Taylor walked off to the side, where two chairs waited – the jury box. Sandy sat on another chair in front, the judge. "Did he just call us idiots?" Ryan whispered sideways to Taylor as they sat down, and she giggled.

"Don't feel so bad," she whispered back as the first group broke off into two smaller groups – plaintiff, defendant. "When he was discussing this with me in his office, he referred to us as 'legal virgins'. So, it could have been worse."

"Hey, jury," Sandy's voice was mock angry, "are you two done, or should we postpone the case a little longer?" Ryan glared at his father, and Taylor put a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggles. Sandy, seeing that they had shut up, nodded at the group of students.

"Ok," one boy began, his voice cracking nervously. He cleared his throat, beginning to speak again, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck, the papers in his hand trembling. Taylor felt bad for him, and she tried to smile encouragingly at him. It made him stutter, and look away nervously, and next to her, Ryan snorted in amusement. She elbowed him in the ribs, shooting him a look that said '_leave the poor boy alone'._

* * *

"My head hurts," Taylor scrunched up her face, rubbing her temples. Sandy laughed, patting her on the back.

"Well, I think you made the right decision in the first two cases. The third one could have gone either way." He turned to Ryan, "so, interested in joining law?" His son shook his head emphatically, earning another laugh. "We'll continue this for the next couple of classes," he ignored the groan from Taylor, "so I'll see you back here on Friday." He gathered his papers and left the classroom for a meeting with the head of his department.

"That was so painful," Taylor groaned.

"Yeah. It was pretty bad. Although that one kid was hilarious," he stood up, grabbing his bag. She followed his lead.

"You mean the first one? That was so sad! He was so nervous," she pouted, thinking back to the frightened boy. "I mean, having to stand up in front of an auditorium full of peers and having to present a project first?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's not all he was nervous about," Ryan commented as they walked out of the class, pausing at the crossroads where they needed to part – he to the science and technology building, she to her dorm. She tilted her head up to look at him quizzically, and he laughed. "Nice shirt," he looked down at her, quirking an eyebrow, before turning to walk away from her. She stared at his back in confusion before looking down at her shirt… oh. She forgot she was wearing something low cut… and all the sudden it made perfect sense why the boy had been antsy… She giggled at the thought, secretly happy that a boy noticed her.

That Ryan noticed her.

* * *

Taylor rushed into the classroom, gasping out apologies as she set her things down on the floor. Sandy shook his head at her, trying to be angry. "You're late, little lady," he held up a finger at her warningly.

"I know!" she moaned, slumping down into the jury chair. "But I was watching Yakuza Prep, and I can't _not_ finish it…"

"What is with that movie?" Ryan whispered to his father as the girl caught her breath. Sandy shrugged – he didn't get Seth's obsession with anime either – then turned to the class.

"Well, now that Miss Townsend has graced us with her appearance, shall we proceed? Group D, come on down, the price is right."

Ryan walked over and dropped on the second chair, taking a quick look at Taylor. "I liked the other top better," he muttered, turning to face the presenters again. She blushed, but looked at him sternly.

"Well, Mr., you were the one who let me in on my courtroom fashion faux-pas," she frowned at her demure top, "so it's your fault they're covered up."

_

* * *

_

Kind of a weird place to stop, but for some reason I did. Ah well, can't all be great cliffhangers, can they?

_Review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Remember what I said last chapter about jumping through time? Yeah, I do that a lot in this chapter, too. It goes from a little before Chrismukkah, to sometime in the spring semester. And, even though I didn't want to, some of it's from Ryan's POV (I wanted to keep it all Taylor, but alas)._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"You've never seen Yakuza Prep?" she twirled around, waving the DVD at him.

"Seth's tried to get me to watch it about a million times." He opened her mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "So I'll tell you what I've told him, I'm not interested." He looked up when she was silent, and found her looking at him stubbornly, hands on her hips. "No." She opened the case obstinately, walking over to the DVD player. "No," he warned again, glaring at her. She popped the DVD in, throwing a challenging look over her shoulder. Music started, and he groaned as she dropped onto the bed next to him, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn, and smiling happily at him. He sighed, and turned to watch the screen.

* * *

"So you and Taylor have been hanging out a lot lately," Sandy remarked slyly. Ryan shrugged, chewing his food. Sandy grinned.

* * *

She knew this was bad. She knew her obsessive need to have someone to love was kicking in. She knew this couldn't end well.

But God, he was so amazing. His eyes were so blue and honest, his smile so sweet. And the rest of him? It gave her chills. When he smiled at her, she ended up tripping or knocking something over. When he touched her, she forgot how to breathe.

The worst part was, she was sure Sandy knew. He would shoot her looks sometimes, half amused, half concerned, half intrigued. Wait. That was too many halves. Anyway, she would blush every time he gave her that look, and he would start to chuckle silently. Sometimes, when he was feeling particularly cruel, he would make sly little comments during their lunches together.

Ryan was clueless.

* * *

Sandy watched Taylor as she watched Ryan. He smiled, feeling very fatherly. Taylor was a good girl, and Ryan deserved to have someone.

Of course, his adopted son was incredibly dense.

* * *

She was invited for Chrismukkah. Seth had to explain to her what the holiday was, because Ryan and Summer didn't feel like doing it. She had sat there as Seth reverently told her all about the melding of Jesus and Moses. She stole glances at Ryan the entire time, and the two were having a hard time not bursting into laughter.

"The word you're thinking of is 'wow'," Ryan commented, sitting next to her after Seth had finished and gone.

"Wow," she repeated with a smile. He hugged her around the shoulders and she stopped breathing.

"Welcome to Chrismukkah," he said with a sense of impending doom.

…she really should breathe at some point.

* * *

There were more people at this holiday event. Right now it was an intimate family gathering, later there would be a party for Kirsten's company, NewMatch. Seth and Summer were here again, but this time Julie and Kaitlin Cooper came. With them was - surprise of all surprises - Ryan's little brother. He had conveniently left that little detail out: his birth father and Julie Cooper had hooked up.

"Well, well, well," a loud voice boomed in her ear, and a heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders, "what do we have here?" She glanced up at an older man with a jovial expression and a grin on his face.

"Bullit," Ryan greeted, a little cautiously, "this is Taylor Townsend. She's Sandy's TA."

"T&A?" Bullit roared with a laugh. "Sandy's got a little something on the side? I didn't think blondie was that open…"

"What? No… Teaching Assistant…" Taylor was flustered, looking helplessly at Ryan. He smiled, shaking his head. Bullit caught the look.

"Ohhh," he elongated suggestively. "You're _Ryan's_ T&A." Taylor turned a deep shade of red, and Ryan looked embarrassed as well.

* * *

"So how long?"

Taylor had gone outside to sit on the porch to get some fresh air, and found Kaitlin Cooper already there. "What?" she asked, looking at the dark-haired girl. Kaitlin sighed wearily.

"You and Ryan. How long have you had a thing for him?" Taylor dropped down onto the steps next to the girl dejectedly.

"About a month. How'd you know?"

"Please," the girl waved her off, "I'm a pro at relationships."

"What am I supposed to do?" Taylor slumped forward, resting her arms on her knees.

"Ok, well, this may sound a little weird, but try dressing up fabulous and going somewhere you know you'll run into him."

"That's it?" Taylor asked, taken aback, and not really believing it was that simple.

"That's it," Kaitlin shrugged smugly.

"That really works?" she leaned back against the stairs, looking over at the younger girl.

"Almost every time. And I mean, touching his arm when you guys are talking is always good, and dancing, and body contact. And, laugh at his jokes, even if they're not funny."

"Oh, I do that already!" she cut in enthusiastically. "Ok. What else?"

"You could walk in front of him. I mean, if he's a butt guy."

"Well I don't know if he's a butt guy."

"Well, it can't hurt. I mean, girl, you got a great butt."

Taylor opened her mouth in a wide grin, grabbing the girl's hand, "aw, you're such a sweetie!"

* * *

Ryan was standing at the bar and talking to his father – biological, this time. It was still a little awkward between them, but they tried for the Cohen's and his new baby brother's sake. He didn't really like these NewMatch parties, so it was either talk to his father, or mingle. He preferred his father, which was a start.

Frank's gaze flicked to the side, and his followed, a flash of red catching his eye. He froze. Taylor looked amazing. The dress she was wearing clung to her body and… why had he never looked at her body before? Sure, he had noticed she was pretty – beautiful even – but he never _really _looked at her.

She walked up to him and smiled – a smile that lit up the room. "Hi, Ryan," she said, almost shyly. "Would you like to dance?"

He was about to tell her that he was a horrible dancer, but she was already walking towards the dance floor. God, her ass was amazing.

"Reign it in," his father murmured, pretending to take a drink. Ryan swallowed hard and nodded, trying to follow the advice. He got himself under some semblance of control and followed her to the dance floor. She turned around, flashing him a smile, and he froze about a foot away from her. A little laugh escaped her, and she stepped towards him, raising her arms and starting to sway with the music. His entire body tensed up, and his eyes never left her as her hips moved…

* * *

Taylor could hardly believe it. Ryan was dancing with her. Of course, he hadn't said one word to her since she asked him, and his face was totally devoid of emotion, but he was still here, right?

She wrapped her arms his neck, swaying her body against his. She might be nervous in many aspects of her life, but she knew she could dance. And deep down, she knew she was sexy. Hell, Henri-Michel had been speechless after they first had sex. She wondered if Ryan would be speechless… no. She couldn't think about _that_ when he was so close to her.

* * *

The night went by as a blur. He remembered up until the point when Taylor asked him to dance, but after that it was all… red. Oh God, had he stared at her dress the entire night? Seth would never let him live that down…

* * *

Kaitlin smiled smugly, and Summer hugged Taylor. "See, we told you he'd like the dress."

Kaitlin had taken Taylor out shopping for the perfect dress, and Summer had learned of the plan. At first Taylor was afraid she'd be disapproving, but the girl had been incredibly supportive, citing Ryan's need to have _some_ happiness in his life. So the three had gone out, and Taylor had never felt better. Not only did she have one of Ryan's friend's approval, but actually had girls to do something with. It was a nice feeling.

Taylor sat on the bed with a huge grin on her face. After their dance, Ryan had trailed her back to the bar, staring at her. She had tried to talk to him, only getting one word answers in reply. "I know," she gushed. "Look at me, I'm shaking," she stuck her hand out to prove it. Kaitlin rolled her eyes, muttering something about 'sickeningly mushy'. Summer grinned, shaking her head at the jaded girl.

* * *

"Dude, that was so bad," Seth shook his head at his brother. "I mean, you were so obvious."

"Shut up, Seth."

"I think it's good," the boy continued on, as if Ryan hadn't said anything. Ryan paused, looking at his brother.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Dude, you've been alone for two years now. I mean, sure, you've had the one-night-stands…" Ryan rolled his eyes. He never should have told Seth about any of those girls. "But I mean… are you happy?"

"Yeah." But Ryan paused. His response had been automatic. "I mean… I'm in college, there's no drama going on…"

"See, my friend, that's not happy. That's complacent."

"I…"

* * *

Kirsten swirled her mug of coffee idly, staring at the liquid. "So, that Taylor girl is nice."

Sandy glanced up from the paper, knitting his eyebrows together. "Yeah, she is."

"Ryan seems to like her," she kept looking at her coffee, trying to sound disinterested. It didn't seem to work.

"I'd been thinking the same thing," Sandy grinned, and Kirsten looked up at her husband, face softening. He always got her, always knew exactly what she was thinking.

* * *

Taylor put the phone back on the cradle, excitement bubbling up in her. Sandy wanted her back for the spring semester, and had just called to see if she'd accept. She had, very enthusiastically. She loved working with Sandy; he had become almost a father figure to her – something she had never had before. Plus, working with him meant she had a greater chance of running into Ryan. She grinned, clapping her hands in celebration.

* * *

Ryan grinned helplessly as Taylor twirled in front of him, showing off her new 'teaching' clothes. Sandy had wanted her to be more classroom-involved this semester, and she took that to mean some new additions to her wardrobe.

"Don't I look very official?" she asked him, a bright smile lighting her face. He couldn't help but look at Sandy in wonder. His father shot him a look back, eyebrows arched high into his forehead, clearly amused.

"Very official," Sandy laughed, leaning back in his chair. Taylor squealed and clapped her hands together, and Ryan couldn't help but think that she was the most insane person he had ever met. She was always bright and bubbly – there was definitely never a dull moment around her. He laughed a bit at the thought of her going into Sandy's classes; he was sure she could pull off the stern teacher thing better than Sandy could. His students better look out, or she might try giving them detentions…

"Oh!" her excited outburst cut through his thoughts. He looked up to find her digging in her purse, and she pulled out a pair of glasses triumphantly, settling them haughtily on her face. She quirked an eyebrow at him, trying to look serious. "I forgot the glasses. I think it brings that certain schoolmarm-ish look."

"You're having way too much fun with this," Sandy was laughing loudly now, shaking his head.

* * *

She'd never been to a college party; it wasn't too bad. Especially because she was here with Ryan, and he made everything better. "Have I told you…" she leaned over, whispering to him.

"…that you've never been to a college party? Yeah, about a dozen times." She glanced down sheepishly, glad that he didn't look annoyed with her. "Relax," he took a sip of beer, glancing at her sideways. She felt her muscles immediately loosen up, and she sighed.

Sometimes she wondered how he did that – made her do something just by saying one little word. It happened all the time. When she would ramble, all he would have to say was 'Taylor', and she would shut up. And right now? She had been incredibly tense – it _was_ her first college party, after all – and he had told her to relax, and her body had responded. He was just so calm, so focused and in control, that whatever he said just came out with this undeniable authority. So she would always obey him, because he never led her wrong. She'd seen it happen to other people as well. Ryan would speak, and everyone else would shut the hell up. She wondered what he would be like… _no_. _Do not go there right now, _her mind yelled furiously. _Not when he's so close_.

"So what else are we supposed to be doing besides drinking cheap beer out of very sanitarily questionable cups?" she grimaced at the plastic container in her hand, and the golden brown liquid inside. She really wasn't much of a beer drinker, but it seemed most college kids didn't keep fine wine laying around…

"That's pretty much it," he shrugged, taking another sip. "People only come to these things to drink and get laid."

She couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, and she turned to him with one eyebrow raised. "Oh, is that what I'm here for? Because none of these boys really seem to be my type," she waved her arm around the room, especially towards the group crowded around one guy doing a keg stand. He chuckled.

"Well, you're here because you need to get out of your dorm. Mingle, maybe talk to people a little."

"And you're here for…" she trailed off, suddenly very afraid of the answer. What if he really was here to get wasted and laid? Oh God, she couldn't stand the thought of him and one of these skanks…

"Protection," he interrupted her thoughts, monotone voice confident. "So you don't get hassled by drunk frat guys." She giggled, but shook her head sadly at him.

"Please, Ryan. Like any of these guys would notice me. I mean, look at these girls," she glanced around the room, where it seemed like every girl's skirt was barely covering their crotch, shirts cut way too low. Then she looked down dejectedly at the pleated skirt and sweater set she had worn. She must look so out of place… His eyes were on her outfit now too, raking from her preppy Keds up, up, up, finally catching her eyes. She stopped breathing as he held her gaze, and she swore his eyes had dilated – although it could just be the alcohol and lighting, her mother's voice reasoned. He licked his lips slowly, and she was momentarily caught up by the movement, heat flooding her belly. His mouth opened…

"Ryan!"

She wanted to cry, because Ryan had turned away from her, and towards a perky blonde that bounced up to him. Seriously, bounced. Searing hatred shot through her as the girl stood slightly on her tiptoes in front of him, locking her hands behind her back and thrusting her chest out, giving him a little smile.

"Ashley," he greeted, a little warily.

"Ryaaan," she elongated, pouting, "you never called me. You said you were gonna call, but you never called." She was drunk, Taylor realized. Either that, or just really, really stupid.

"Sorry," he shrugged, looking highly uncomfortable.

"Sorry?" she asked, trying to sound angry, but failing miserably because she started to giggle. "You," her hand came out from behind her back, and she trailed a finger down his chest, "owe me. You never called – you said you were gonna call – and you never called, so you owe me."

Taylor lifted her cup to her lips, gulping down the now tepid beer. When it was empty, she looked around for another. She found a keg not too far from her, made her way over, filled the plastic to the brim, and downed the entire thing in one go.

* * *

She was so drunk, and it was _not_ good. Her world spun, and her stomach protested wildly. Pushing away the sensation, she looked around for an exit, but nothing here was familiar. There were too many people, too many voices and sounds; it was too hot and noisy. She stumbled in the direction she happened to be facing, figuring that, at some point, she would reach a destination. After a couple steps, a steady hand grabbed her arm, pulling her in another direction entirely. She should protest, she knew, but her mouth couldn't open without her stomach trying to force its contents through.

Then she was outside, blessed cool air hitting her face, and she let out a happy sigh. They had stopped moving, and she finally looked up at her captor. Ryan. He was looking at her intensely, but she was too drunk to try and figure out the emotion in his eyes. "Let's get you home," he murmured, taking her arm again – but gentler, this time.

She opened her mouth to say 'ok', but her speech was cut off as her gut wrenched, throat burned, mouth filled with that horrible taste of vomit. When her stomach was done heaving, she looked up guiltily at him. His eyes were closed – trying to control himself – and he was clenching his jaw tightly.

"Oops." If she were sober, she would have kicked herself for _the_ lamest apology ever.

"It's ok," he ground out, taking her arm and pulling her again. "I can always buy new shoes."

_

* * *

_

Oh my, _drunk__!Taylor__ seems to have made her appearance again. She hasn't been around since I wrote 'Chino'. I just adore writing __drunk__!Taylor__ and __hero!Ryan_

_p.s. – I hope this wasn't __angsty__. I'm trying to keep this story drama-free (I don't think I'm physically capable)._

_Review!_

_p.p.s__. – Speaking of 'Chino', I'm thinking of continuing the Chino-verse…_


	4. Chapter 4

_I think you'll all be happy with this chapter…_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

She couldn't bring herself to answer her phone when he called; she was too embarrassed. That Saturday, after recovering from an intense hangover, she went out and bought him a new pair of shoes, leaving them in a box outside his dorm with a pathetic '_sorry_' scribbled on a piece of paper on top.

Monday, though, was unavoidable. Taking in a deep breath, she knocked on Sandy's office door, hesitating a second longer before entering. The man greeted her with a giant smile, and she felt relief flood through her body. Ryan hadn't told him. Thank God, Ryan hadn't…

"Ryan." She couldn't help the surprised tone of her voice as his cool blue eyes raised to look at her steadily.

"Taylor. Good morning," he was calm, but his eyes were searching her face, making sure she was ok. She gave him a small smile, and saw him relax back into the chair. She hadn't even noticed he was tense until that minor movement, that slight softening of his features.

"So," Sandy was cheerfully oblivious, "guess what time of year it is again?"

* * *

"… and these two to my left will be the jury. It's your job to convince them, bring them to your side." Ryan and Taylor took their jury box seats resolutely as the first group descended.

"Here we go again," she whispered, and the corner of his mouth twitched up.

* * *

"Taylor!" a smile lit her face as his voice called from across the green, and she turned to watch him jog over to her. "Hey."

"Hey," she hugged her books to her chest tightly, beginning to walk again as he caught up.

"You heading to Sandy's class?" he fell into step next to her. She shrugged.

"It's still a half an hour away, but it seems pointless to go back to the dorms or do anything else."

"Well, we can just go hang out," he suggested, and she nodded, heart fluttering wildly just because he was next to her.

* * *

"Well, Ryan, I must say I'm disappointed," she tried to be stern, but the smile gave her away. "I never pegged you as a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy." He blushed a deep red, not meeting her gaze.

"She was using me too," he tried to defend himself, shrugging. "Plus, she was really annoying." Taylor giggled, glad they were finally talking about _that_ night. It seemed that Ryan, in his first year of college, had reverted back to his 'Chino ways', as he put it, and starting sleeping around a lot – getting over Marissa, as she put it. Apparently that Ashley girl had been a giant mistake. "I mean, you should've heard her laugh. It was like a cackle, all loud and high pitched," he shuddered at the memory, which sent her into another fit of giggles. They lapsed into comfortable silence.

They were in Sandy's room, waiting for class to begin so they could play jury again. Her legs swung back and forth over the side of the teacher's desk, but his were still next to her. He wasn't really a feet-swinging kind of guy. Glancing at her cell phone, she guessed that they still had about fifteen minutes before students would start filing in, and turned her head to tell him that.

Instead of getting the words out, she was caught up in how beautiful he was – and if she ever told him how she felt about him, the word 'beautiful' would _never_ come up, she vowed. But he was; blonde hair lazily awry, ice blue eyes staring off into the back of the room, entire body tensed and ready, yet still managing to look relaxed. It must be a product of his upbringing, she thought, to be able to pull that off: the outward appearance of calm while still being alert to everything around him. Sure enough, he noticed her gaze, and turned his head to look at her. She tried to say something, or at the very least smile, but she was so enraptured at the way his eyes caught hers, that nothing came out.

Seconds seemed to stretch for hours, and it felt like slow motion as he dipped his head down, lips hovering over hers, and she waited – breath caught in her throat. He pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers, but when he found no protest he leaned down again, this time brushing lightly against her mouth. She tried to keep her eyes open – fearing that if she closed them, he would disappear – but when he deepened the kiss, they fluttered shut.

She was lost in the sensation of his lips – rough and a little chapped – pressing forcefully against hers, and the movement of his hand, fingers lightly skimming the skin of her neck before coming to rest in her hair, cupping the back of her head gently. His head tilted, lips parting, and she felt his tongue lick her bottom lip, as if seeking entrance – and she gladly relented.

If he weren't so solid and warm in front of her, she might not believe this was happening. It was like fireworks were going off in her head – lights bursting behind her closed lids, brain going haywire. He was unlike anyone she had ever been with – especially the last person she had been with, but her brain couldn't even _remember_ that guy's name right now. That guy had been romantic and expressive; Ryan was the opposite. His kiss was hard and dominating; she loved the way he took over, the way his tongue pressed incessantly against hers, the way he was pushing her down onto the table… Oh God, he was pushing her down onto the table. She had been so wrapped up in just _feeling_ him, that she hadn't even noticed the hand on her lower back, keeping her in place as he laid her down on the desk.

She let out a whimper, and he pulled away slightly, breaking the kiss and trying to figure out if it was a protest. She shook her head yes to his unspoken question, lying back fully against the cold wood, for once glad of his reserve when, instead of talking, he just began kissing her again. Now he was shifting, settling himself over her, resting his weight on his forearms so that he wouldn't crush her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting her hips slightly to press into him, suddenly needing to feel his warm, hard body against every inch of her's that she possibly could. He groaned slightly, shifting his weight to one arm so that the other could snake around her waist, holding her to him, and his kiss suddenly turned desperate. He gripped her bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently as she moaned, hands running down his back...

* * *

A loud cough sounded from somewhere behind them, and they froze. Ryan broke away from her, lifting himself up and turning towards the entrance to the room – where a dozen students and Sandy stood. Taylor half slid, half fell off the desk, hastily rearranging her hair and smoothing out her clothes. Ryan, on the other hand, didn't bother, just shooting an annoyed look at the group.

"How long have you guys been there?" his voice was heavy with disappointment, and he stared balefully at his adoptive father.

"Well, _I_ just arrived, but I'm pretty sure these guys have been standing around for a while," Sandy tried to hold back a grin, and his students looked highly uncomfortable. "I think they weren't sure how to go about interrupting you, since the two of you seemed so… distracted." He waved his students off to their seats, then walked to his desk. Taylor busied herself tidying the papers on the desk, not able to meet his eye.

Sandy gestured surreptitiously, and Ryan - after stealthily readjusting himelf - joined his father a little bit off to the side, far enough away from the girl to talk. "What?" Ryan asked, pushing his hands into his pockets, gaze sweeping the large auditorium room.

"How long has this been going on?" the older man asked, insistently curious.

"Um… about ten minutes?" Ryan gauged, looking at his watch and trying to remember when the kiss had started.

"No, I mean you two. Together," Sandy glanced at the door as more students walked in. They took their seats, and the ones already there began to whisper to the new arrivals excitedly.

"Um… about ten minutes." Sandy's head snapped towards his son in surprise, eyes widening.

"You mean to tell me that went from being 'friends' to hot and heavy on my desk in _10 minutes_?" Ryan had the decency to blush a little, but he shrugged his shoulders, smiling sheepishly. "You dog," the man couldn't help the grin that spread over his face, and he clapped his son on the shoulder before walking back to the front of the room.

A glance at Taylor showed her biting her thumbnail, eyes wide and fearful and flicking between him and Sandy. He walked over to her, not wanting the rest of the class to hear what he wanted to say. "Sandy's cool," he whispered into her ear, hand drifting to her lower back. He contemplated letting it go lower – God knows he desperately wanted to – but instead he left it where it was, turning to face the class again. They were whispering and giggling to each other, thrilled at the gossip.

"Alright, people," Sandy called loudly, and the class snapped to attention. "The show's over, so let's get on with the projects, shall we?"

* * *

She was still wound tight – Ryan had kept one finger hooked firmly in her belt loop through their entire jury duty. Even though he hadn't been touching her, the heavy weight of his hand had made it hard to focus on the presentations she was supposed to be judging. And now she was having trouble focusing on her _actual_ classes, which wasn't such a good thing considering she had a test coming up soon. Finally it was over, and she gathered up her books, shoving them roughly into her bag before heading out the door.

He was waiting for her, leaning casually against the wall, hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like he was incredibly bored. But she could tell – from the tense set of his shoulders and the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot – that he was nervous. He was nervous over her. A thrill went through her, and her heart began beating wildly.

She opened her mouth to call his name, and abruptly ran into the door.

* * *

"You sure you're ok?" he knelt down next to the bed to reach her eye level. She nodded, holding the ice pack to her head, blushing furiously.

"I can't believe I did that," she whispered in horror, almost to herself. He laughed softly, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "I'm such a spaz."

"Well…" he agreed, laughing again as she gave him a desperate look. "But it's cute."

"What? That I run into things and trip over myself when I see you?" He grinned.

"I just thought you were like this normally. I didn't know _I_ had anything to do with it."

"Normally I'm fine," she began mournfully as he sat on his bed next to her, "I mean, I've taken all sorts of martial arts and dance classes, but… I just lose all coordination when I'm-" he captured her lips in a kiss, effectively shutting her up. His hand went to her waist, pushing under her shirt as his fingers traveled over her skin. She gasped into his mouth, bringing her hands to his neck…

"Whoa, don't need to see that."

Ryan broke away with a strangled moan, turning to face his roommate. "Jesus Christ, we need to start locking doors," he mumbled as Taylor pulled her shirt down. "Jake, what are you doing here?"

"Well, it's kinda my room, too," the boy smiled, dropping his bag onto his bed. "Hey, Taylor."

"Hi, Jake," she replied with a smile. "How was your class?"

The boy groaned, "man, Yang is _killing_ me. He just assigned us-" he shut up at Ryan's glare.

"Speaking of, I should get going…" she stood up, grabbing her bag and waving to the two boys. Ryan got up as well, walking to the door after her.

"Hey, I'll see you later?" his voice was low so Jake couldn't hear them. She nodded with a smile, leaning up to give him a quick kiss. He watched her walk down the hall. When she was gone, he closed the door with a sigh.

"So, you're 'just friends', huh?" Jake was grinning at him from his desk chair.

"I think I might kill you."

_

* * *

_

I know, it's shorter than the previous chapters, but it was such a nice little cut-off point (frustrated Ryan).

_Review!_


	5. Chapter 5

_So it's been a while since I last updated this, and it's not because I forgot about it. See, I started this chapter off going in a COMPLETELY different direction, with a completely different plot. Then I realized there was too much drama, so I got rid of that, and wrote this. And I had no trouble with this, until I got halfway through, and realized this __fic__ is rated T, and it was going in a very non-T direction._

_So I hope this is good. Seriously, because I'm really nervous about this one._

* * *

"So how's Taylor?" Sandy glanced sideways at his son, trying to look innocent. Ryan shot him a glare back.

"Real subtle, Sandy. She's fine." He stared out at the campus, taking a long drink. Sandy sighed in exasperation, shifting on the bench next to him.

"I meant how are _you_ and Taylor?"

"We're… good." Then he paused, finally letting out a sigh, "I mean, it's fun…"

"But it's not progressing as fast as you'd like," Sandy grinned slyly, elbowing his son in the arm. Ryan groaned in frustration, nodding.

"We seem to keep getting interrupted… first you and your students, then Jake, then _her_ roommate, who freaked the hell out cause she just broke up with her boyfriend and now hates all men…" Sandy gave a laugh, shaking his head. "And when we came to visit the house last weekend? Sophie walks in. I'm just glad she isn't old enough to really notice what's going on."

"Ok, can we please wait a _few_ years until you ruin her?" Sandy cut in, a little worriedly. "I'd like her to be innocent as long as possible... although I'm not sure how long that'll go on, what with Julie Cooper being her godmother." Ryan groaned again, dropping his head into his hands.

"It's not like I _want_ this to happen…" the reply was muffled by his hands. He paused, looking up suddenly, "the being caught part. The other part I _definitely_ want to happen."

* * *

"You know, there's always one," Taylor remarked, the red pen in her hand marking the paper in front of her. Sandy looked up from his computer.

"Which question is it this time?"

She sat back in her chair, picking the paper up to read it, "the question was 'name one example where legal precedent was used to win a case'. And…" she looked to the top of the paper for the name, "Patrick answers 'Abraham Lincoln, cause he was a lawyer. His legal-ness was used to free the slaves'." She looked up at Sandy, and they both paused for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Legal _President_?" Sandy choked out, and Taylor nodded. "And apparently I need to send him back to English Comp. 101… 'legal-ness'…" he shook his head sadly, closing his eyes.

"You know that's not a real word," Ryan walked into the room, catching the tail end of their conversation. He dropped into the unoccupied chair with a smile.

"We know," Taylor smiled brightly at him, "that's what we were talking about."

Ryan looked at the papers on the desk, "ah, tests. What gem did you find this time?"

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me to dinner again," Taylor told the blonde woman, smiling gratefully down at her plate.

"We love having you," Kirsten smiled, exchanging a quick glance with Sandy. Her husband quirked an eyebrow, and the look was missed by both students. Taylor was too busy eating – apparently the girl wasn't used to home cooked meals. Kirsten had only recently learned how to cook after her daughter was born – Seth had whined loudly about her loving Sophie more – and she was glad Taylor enjoyed it. Ryan was focused on wiping food off Sophie's face with a napkin, so he wasn't paying attention either. She gave her husband another look, nodding at him.

"So Taylor," he began off his wife's green light, "what are your plans for spring break?"

She watched the girl look up from her plate. "Um, nothing, I guess. I hadn't really thought about it."

"Well…" Sandy began, and she tried to signal him to stop, because she had also seen her son's eyes widen in panic, flicking between her, Sandy, and Taylor. Unfortunately her husband was so caught up in being the bearer of good news, that he missed her attempts. "… Kirsten, Sophie, and I are headed up to Rhode Island to visit Seth and Summer. Maybe you and Ryan would like to come along? We know how much you and Summer bonded over the holidays."

Taylor's eyes lit up, a smile breaking over her face. She turned to Ryan, who forced a smile. "That sounds great!" she exclaimed, turning back to look at Sandy and clapping her hands in excitement. Both she and Sandy missed the pained look on Ryan's face, but Kirsten caught it. "Ryan?" The girl turned back to her son, looking for confirmation.

"Yeah, that sounds great," he gritted out as she squealed.

"I'm gonna go call Summer," she gushed, getting up and skipping out of the kitchen. Ryan slumped back into his chair.

"What's wrong?" Sandy finally noticed his son's disappointment.

"It's nothing," Ryan mumbled, picking his fork up and swirling it around his plate forlornly. Kirsten rolled her eyes, standing up and gathering the dishes.

"You were planning on taking her somewhere," she guessed softly, taking the plates into the kitchen and placing them in the sink. "I'm sorry, we had no idea."

"No," he sighed, "it's ok." She watched the guilt wash over his face, and she sighed internally. He always felt guilty when she apologized. "There weren't any definite plans anyway. I hadn't even told her."

Taylor swirled back into the room, eyes shining. "Summer's so excited! She's going to teach me how to shop eco-friendly." She sat down at the table again, flashing Ryan a brilliant smile, and Kirsten watched her son's face soften. "Speaking of shopping, I'm going to have to get clothes," the girl looked at her for confirmation. "Because Rhode Island's cold, right?" Kirsten began to laugh.

* * *

"I'm so excited! Aren't you excited?"

He watched Taylor shove things into her suitcase at light speed. She paused in her frenzy, turning to face him, and he realized she was waiting for a reply.

"Yeah, I'm excited," he smiled back at her from his place on the bed, where he had been surveying her progress. "But you know we're not leaving for another three days, right?"

"I know," she pouted, slowing her movements to a normal person's pace, "but I have to make sure I'm ready. See, first I make a list of all the things I need. Then I pre-pack, to see if everything fits nicely in the amount of luggage I can take. Then I take everything out, go over my list to make sure I didn't miss anything, and then pack it up again…" she trailed off, glancing at him out of the corner of her eyes. "You're going to run away from me now, aren't you?"

He let out a laugh, pushing himself off the bed and walking over to where she was nervously standing in front of the half-packed suitcase. His hands slid around her waist, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. "You don't think I'm crazy?" she murmured, staring down at the luggage.

"Of course I think you're crazy," he pressed his lips to the hollow behind her ear. "But it's cute."

"Just like my running into doors?" she gasped out as his arms tightened around her.

"Just like your running into doors," he confirmed, kissing her again. "And your rambling," he punctuated with another kiss, "and your obsessive organizing, and all those weird movies you like," he made his way down her neck until the fabric of her shirt stopped him.

"Ryan," she breathed, "I have to pack."

"Can't it-" he was cut off as his cell phone began to ring sharply. "I swear to God," he growled, pulling the device out of his pocket and flipping it open. "What?"

"Hey, man, sounding a little angry," Seth's voice came over the line.

"Hey, Seth," he said for Taylor's sake, and she smiled at the boy's name, resuming her packing. "What's up?"

"I heard you guys were coming to visit. What happened to your _tres romantique liaison_? I think I remember something about going somewhere with a beach, where you could watch a certain Miss Townsend get all wet in a bikini…"

"I never said that," Ryan hissed, lowering his voice. "I just said somewhere with a beach…"

"Oh, but Ryan, you forget I know _all_ about your pedestrian wet-girl fantasies. So that's why I'm wondering why you're coming to Rhode Island, which isn't exactly known for its beaches and hot weather."

Ryan sighed, wishing he had _never_ opened up to Seth. He should've known telling that boy anything relating to sex was a bad idea. "Well, Sandy and Kirsten invited us up, and she seems so excited…" he trailed off, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't hearing this.

"Well how sweet," Seth mocked, "giving up your dreams of a wet Taylor just to make her happy."

"Did you want something, or did you just call to be annoying?"

"Just to be annoying…"

"Bye, Seth," he told his brother, hanging up with a smile. If he weren't so fond of the boy, he'd seriously have to hurt him sometimes.

"How is he?" Taylor asked, folding up a shirt and placing it gently on top of the stack.

"He's great," he lied, making sure his phone was on silent. "Now, where were we?"

She giggled, shaking her head at him. "Moment's over, Ryan," she sighed. "Plus, I can't just _stop_ in the middle of packing. Then I'll lose track of where I was, and I'll have to redo it all…"

* * *

"Are you ok?" she asked Ryan, letting her forehead crinkle in concern. When he didn't answer, she glanced over at Kirsten, who smiled sympathetically at her son.

"He doesn't like heights," the woman explained, turning to her daughter and making sure the girl was buckled in properly.

"Aw," she cooed, turning to face him and placing a hand on his arm. "You poor thing." His eyes opened for a brief second as he looked at her and tried to smile.

"I'll be fine, once we take off. It's the waiting…" he shifted in his seat impatiently. Her heart went out to him, and she wanted desperately to kiss him, but decided against it because his parents were sitting with them, along with his baby sister and an entire plane's worth of people. So she settled with sliding her hand into his, applying pressure to the back of his hand with her thumb. He shot her a grateful look before shutting his eyes again.

* * *

"Hey man," Seth grinned, pulling his brother into a hug. "How was the flight?" Ryan shot him a look. "That bad, huh? Hey Taylor. Mother, you're looking lovely," he simpered, and Kirsten shook her head, grinning, at her son's antics. "Dad, I see the eyebrows are as bushy as ever. Sophie!" he picked his sister up, bouncing her as she giggled.

"Hey Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," Summer greeted more sedately, hugging the two. "Atwood," she nodded at him, and he returned the gesture. "I see you got the Ryan Atwood death grip," she grinned, turning to Taylor, who was shaking her hand out. The girl giggled as Ryan looked down in embarrassment.

"Oh man," Seth cut in loudly, holding Sophie on his hip as they began to walk out of the airport, "this one time, when we were going to Berkeley to convince those guys to give us the house, he gripped my arm so hard, I had a bruise for a month."

"It wasn't that bad," Ryan growled, glaring at his brother as the rest laughed.

Seth's eyes opened wide, mock fear covering his features, "sometimes, at night, I still cry…"

"If you weren't holding Sophie, I'd punch you right now. Then you'd have something to _really_ cry about."

* * *

"So how's it going with Ryan?" Summer asked over her coffee. They were sitting in the food court of the mall, shopping bags piled around the little table.

Taylor blushed furiously, grinning down at the table. "It's great," she began. "He's amazing…"

Summer was silent for a few minutes, staring at the coffee cup. "I'm really glad he found you," she murmured, and Taylor's head snapped up in surprise. "It's nice to see him so happy."

"Oh, I…" she wasn't sure what to say. No one had _ever_ told her they were happy to know her. _Ever_.

"Plus, I really needed someone to go shopping with. Seth just complains when I take him."

"Haven't you made any girlfriends here?" Taylor leaned forward in concern as Summer's face fell.

"Not really. I mean, it's not like I don't have friends, but… they're all so involved with saving the earth, – don't get me wrong, so am I – but they're not too into the shopping thing. I need a friend who likes some of the same stuff that I do… outside of nature."

"Well, I just like having a friend period." Summer's face filled with pity, and Taylor looked down at the table again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…" she stopped when the brunette reached across the table to grab her hand, giving her a smile.

* * *

Ryan stood in his hotel room, still red from the awkward conversation he had just had with Sandy and Kirsten about _separate_ rooms for him and Taylor. Then there was that whole comment about staying inside one's room through the night. He knew Kirsten was protective, but this was just awful. They had rented three rooms: Ryan's on the left, Taylor's on the right, and the Cohen's right in the middle. And he was fairly certain Kirsten would be pressing her ear to the door, listening for any movement in the hall.

Fantastic.

* * *

"So not yet?" Seth glanced sideways as Ryan sighed, settling back against the bench.

"Not yet. We keep getting interrupted, and now Kirsten's made _very_ sure we get no alone time. I can't believe my mother is ruining my game this much."

"I think she's having flashbacks to Theresa…" he ducked as Ryan took a swing at him. "Or maybe she just wants to make sure you're serious about the girl, considering you haven't had a real relationship since Marissa." Ryan shook his head. Sometimes Seth's depth surprised him, and he knew the boy was right. "So… is it serious?"

* * *

"Hey, I was thinking you guys could come see some of my work tonight," Seth looked at his mother with his best puppy dog eyes, sticking his lower lip out. "Ryan and Taylor already came to see, but you guys haven't."

"Sure," Sandy grinned proudly at his son, whose artwork had been good enough to win the chance to be shown in a public gallery.

"How about tonight?" Summer cut in quickly. "Say… eight?"

"Sure, I'll see if Ryan wants to take Sophie…" Kirsten started, but the younger girl cut her off.

"Why don't you bring Sophie? I'm sure Cohen wants her to see his work. _Right_, Cohen?" The boy nodded his agreement, and Kirsten shrugged in acceptance.

* * *

"Eight?" Ryan looked around nervously.

"Yeah. I'll try to drag it out as long as possible, and I have some rants prepared…" Seth clapped his brother on the shoulder with a grin. "You'll probably have about two hours."

"Two hours," Ryan repeated, nodding. "Ok, thanks."

"Come on, Cohen." Summer called from the doorway, "we have to go over the plan some more." Seth followed her orders, going out the door, but the girl paused, turning back to Ryan. "You be careful with her, ok?" When he looked at her in confusion, she smiled sadly, "she's a lot more fragile than she lets on." Then her eyes narrowed, and she raised a finger at him, "so if you end up hurting her in any way, Atwood, I will go all rage-blackout on your ass, got it?"

* * *

"So where are the Cohens?" Taylor questioned as they walked out of the elevator.

"Seth's art show," he answered, glad his voice didn't give away the fact that he was nervous as hell. Glancing at his watch, he was glad to realize it was only 8:30, and if Seth's estimates were any good, he still had an hour and a half. Placing a hand on the small of her back, he led her to his hotel room. She shot him a curious glance over her shoulder – apparently Kirsten had informed her of the rule – but he didn't bother to answer it.

He ushered her inside, making sure the door was locked firmly behind him. She was standing nervously in the middle of his room, clutching her purse tightly. She bit her lip, giving him a smile, and his pulse picked up.

"You know, I don't think Kirsten would be ok with us being _alone_ in your room," she teased, trying to lift some of the tension.

"I don't care," he growled, stalking towards her and catching her around the waist. "I'm sick of interruptions," his breath came out hot and heavy against her neck, and she let out a whimper, melting in his arms. "And now," he continued, lowering his voice and rumbling against her skin, "we have an hour and a half."

She quirked an eyebrow at him, smile tugging her lips. "Well, _someone_ thinks highly of themselves."

* * *

"Ryan," she sighed in disappointment, "it's almost 10, I should get going."

"Nooo," he whined, looping his arm around her waist as she struggled to get away. "I don't care, I want you to stay."

"It's not like I don't want to," she pouted, letting him pull her so her back rested against his chest. He kept his arm draped around her stomach, pressing a small kiss to the back of her neck. "But I don't want Sandy and Kirsten…"

"They'll be fine," he laughed softly, eyes closing as sleep took him over. "They only wanted us in separate rooms so they could be sure I was serious about you…" his voice trailed off as he drifted off to sleep.

Taylor was suddenly very awake, heart beating rapidly. He was serious about her? His little confession had been so unplanned, so offhand, like it wasn't a big deal, and that part, more than the words themselves, was what was making her heart flutter in her chest. She let a grin take over her face.

He was serious about her.

_

* * *

_

Ok, so I really hope this chapter was alright, because it took me SO long to write. I had such an unbelievably hard time with it. So please tell me what you think, and review!


	6. Chapter 6

_Hmm… it's been a while (for me, at least) with this story. Sorry for the wait, I hope it's satisfactory…_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Kirsten fixed her hair in the mirror one last time before picking Sophie up and heading out the door. She stopped off at Taylor's room first, knowing the girl would probably take longer to get ready than her son. Ryan was notorious for being able to wake up and be out the door in record time, so she decided to give his girlfriend a head start. She knocked softly on the door, just in case Taylor was still asleep, and waited for a few seconds. There was no response, so she knocked again, this time adding a soft "Taylor?"

Again nothing, and Kirsten frowned. Maybe the girl had already woken up and gone down for breakfast? Or maybe she was just a very heavy sleeper. She decided to check the hotel's dining area – maybe Taylor was already eating with Sandy there – when her son's door opened. She turned to say something, but froze.

Taylor backed out of the room, followed quite closely by Ryan, who was reaching out to grab the girl's hand. She giggled, letting him pull her back, and Kirsten watched the two melt into a kiss in the doorway of his room.

The girl broke away with a reluctant moan, and her son's shoulders slumped a little at the loss of contact. "I should go," the girl whispered, and Ryan's mouth turned down in a pout. "I really shouldn't have stayed this long…" she continued, the look on her face torn as she tried to leave and placate the boy at the same time. "I really don't want to upset Kirsten."

The mention of her name made the woman feel slightly guilty. The two looked so happy together, and the softness of her son's face was startlingly new. But looks could be deceiving, she knew, and Ryan was very good at hiding his emotions. She _liked_ Taylor; she didn't want to see the girl get hurt because Ryan was… well, being Ryan. Ever since Marissa's death, he'd been largely uncaring in the girl department. At least back in high school he actually _cared_ about the girls he dated – even if he wasn't so good at relationships in general.

"Neither do I," the boy was saying, sighing wearily, and another flicker of guilt shot through her. "But we're twenty, and in college, and I think we're capable of making our own decisions…"

Touché.

Taylor still looked doubtful and upset. "But I don't want her to hate me, Ryan…" there was a note of desperation in her voice, and Kirsten remembered Sandy telling her that the girl's mother was somewhat of a bitch. She vaguely knew Veronica Townsend from back in Newport, but truthfully she'd barely interacted with the woman. But there were reports – from her husband, her son, and even Summer – that the woman was something of an emotional terrorist. Ryan's eyebrows drew together, and he opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off with a loud throat-clearing.

The two looked at her – noticing her in the hallway for the first time – and Taylor tore Ryan's hands off her waist and stumbled back a few steps. "Kirsten…" she began breathlessly, eyes going wide and fearful. More guilt flooded her, but she was glad to see that Ryan didn't look upset or afraid. He just shot her a look that said '_would you fix this, please, so we can go eat breakfast?'_

"Good morning, Taylor," she smiled, stepping forward, shifting Sophie more comfortably on her hip. Taylor's mouth opened and shut a few times, and she glanced back at Ryan for some sort of confirmation. The boy just smiled at her, and Kirsten watched as the girl relaxed. "So, should we all go get something to eat?"

"Yeah, let me just grab a sweatshirt," Ryan headed back into his room, grabbing one and coming back out. Record time, just like always. "Let's go." He placed his hand gently on Taylor's back, leading her towards the elevator, and Kirsten followed, touched when he paused and let her go on first. Always the gentleman. Now, if only she could get _Seth_ to show that kind of consideration… Taylor and Ryan got on after her, Ryan hitting the ground level button.

"And I highly doubt I could ever hate someone who makes my son smile like that," she said softly to the stunned girl as the doors closed. Her son – predictably – turned red and looked down at the floor.

* * *

"So?" Seth goaded as they walked down the path that cut through to the RISD campus.

"So what?" He knew what Seth wanted: a play-by-play of last night's game… ok, maybe sports metaphors weren't the best for this situation, and it's not like Seth would get the reference anyway, but it fit.

Seth sighed dramatically, giving him that '_don't make me say it'_ look. "_So_ how did last night go? You know, the _you_ and the _her_ and the two-hours worth of alone time provided by the one and only _me_?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure it was Summer's plan…" he remarked, placing the cardboard coffee cup to his lips and drinking innocently. Seth's eyes narrowed and he laughed sarcastically.

"Whatever, man. Seriously, how'd it go?"

"It was good."

Good? Seriously? It was actually pretty damn fantastic, but he really didn't need to tell Seth that. Which was weird, because he never had a problem telling Seth about the other girls he'd been with in college. But this time… he just wanted to keep this to himself. He wanted to keep _her_ to himself.

"Good? Seriously?" Sometimes Ryan wondered if he hung out with Seth way too much, because sometimes his brother and the voice in his head matched up perfectly. "That's the lamest description ever." Seth wasn't going to let this go, so he had to come up with _some_ way of placating the boy's fascination without actually going into detail.

He looked over at his brother with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Seth's mouth twisted into a lewd smirk. "_Gotcha_," he nodded, turning his head to look forward and smugly taking a sip of his coffee.

Yeah, they definitely knew each other too well.

* * *

"So?" Summer looked up from her desk to where Taylor sat on the bed.

"So what?" Taylor asked, forehead crinkling in confusion.

"So how did last night go?" the darker girl rolled her eyes, voice taking on the tone of '_duh_'.

Taylor's face broke into a giant grin. "_Amazing!_" she gushed, beginning to pick at her nails. "He was _so_ amazing. I mean, I knew he would be, because no one can kiss like that and _not_ be, and I'm no blushing virgin myself, but I don't think I expected it to be like _that_…"

"Ok!" Summer interjected, looking both horrified and amused at the same time. "I only wanted to know if it went well, I don't need a play-by-play. I'm not Seth." She paused, thinking for a second. "Not that Seth would get the sports reference anyway…"

Taylor giggled at her friend – _her friend!_ – then bit her lip as the other part of last night came back to her. "He said he was serious about me," she added softly, looking up through her lashes at Summer. The girl was silent for a moment – contemplative – before she crossed her arms, letting a confident smirk play on her lips.

"Well thank God," she said, and Taylor couldn't help but be a little confused. "Well, usually when he likes a girl he gets all freaked out and tries to push them away. I'm glad he's finally maturing a little." Summer's smile grew more thoughtful, "although maybe it's just _you_." Taylor opened her mouth to protest, but Summer cut her off with a shake of her head. "Either way, I'm just happy I don't have to beat the crap out of him for being an idiot, because the last thing he needs is to go and screw this up. He doesn't need to lose a girl that gets him to actually _smile_ once in a while, and I'd rather not lose my only friend with a sense of fashion and the decency to shower more than once a week."

Taylor couldn't resist the urge to get up and hug the girl, who squeaked in surprise. "Thank you, Summer!" She did, however, resist the urge to break into tears, and drew away from her friend, sniffling a little. Summer brushed her off in embarrassment – apparently she wasn't used to people being that appreciative of some off-hand remark. So Taylor sat back down on the dorm room bed, picking up the magazine she had been reading. Before she could get too far into reading, a thought hit her, and she _had _to ask.

"Your friends really only shower once a week?"

* * *

"You'd think he'd be _less_ tense this time around," Seth muttered dryly, flinching a little at the glare his brother sent his way. He did notice, though, that his brother's girlfriend blushed at the comment, looking somewhat pleased with herself even though her eyes were on the floor. Ryan grumbled some threat at him – he'd heard them all a million times – but the girl gave him a scolding look, which made him shut up. Seth liked this girl, he decided, letting a grin break out. Ryan was _so_ whipped.

"Seth, shut up," Summer commanded, punching him on the arm, which freaking hurt, and he let her know it by letting out a whine and cringing away from her. She rolled her eyes at him, and he knew better than to argue back.

"Ryan, you'll be fine," the newest addition to their group was soothing his brother, taking one of his hands in both of hers and bringing them to rest over her heart. "We made it here in one piece; going back will be just as safe."

The airport was crowded, and Seth couldn't wait to get out and back into the blissful silence of his dorm. Not that he liked watching his parents leave – he missed them desperately most of the time – but still, a little silence would be nice.

"I'll see you in a couple months," Summer was hugging Taylor tightly. Girls were so emotional.

"Yeah, summer's not too far away," Ryan stepped forward, extending his hand. Seth reached out and shook it. The two boys paused for a second, before pulling each other into that awkward, one armed hug-slash-manly-pat-on-the-back.

"Keep me up to date, man," Seth muttered, completely ignoring the fact that he was getting too upset at his brother leaving. It was only a couple more months. But he wished sometimes that their dream schools were just a little bit closer than opposite ends of the country. It made Seth/Ryan time harder to coordinate.

"You know I won't," his brother grinned at him. For some reason, Ryan seemed ultra-reluctant to talk about his newest love interest. And because he was so adamant about _not_ talking about what she was like in bed, Seth had to conclude that it was because he really didn't want to screw this up. Good. His brother was a good guy, who just happened to have pretty much the crappiest love life ever. Getting ex-girlfriends pregnant, not really having a steady girlfriend – _ever_. Even Marissa hadn't been steady. Those two had been off and on more times than Seth cared to count – he lost track after break up number seven. But this Taylor girl was like the anti-Marissa. Where the other girl had made Ryan angry, jealous, and self-conscious, this one seemed to calm him down. She seemed to make him happy.

"Come on, we're going to miss our flight," Sandy cut in. Seth had gotten very good over the years at interpreting his father's eyebrows, and right now they read impatience and panic – raised ever so slightly on his forehead and furrowed together. His mother sniffled, hugging him with one arm, and he felt Sophie's little arms hug his leg. He bent down and ruffled his sister's hair affectionately. Maybe if there hadn't been a lot of people around, he would've gotten teary-eyed too, but he was too manly to get emotional…

"Bye, Seth," Kirsten whispered in his ear, and he rolled his eyes in mock annoyance at his mother's overbearing affection. The group of five turned and headed through the terminal. To recover from his mother's embarrassing show, he yelled out the next random thought in his head.

"Don't die up there, Chino."

* * *

"Are you gonna be ok if I go?" he heard her whisper. He nodded resolutely, eyes still closed, and she squeezed his hand once before getting out of the seat. He hated flying. A few seconds later – much too soon for her to be done in the bathroom – someone settled into the seat next to him, and he opened his eyes.

"Kirsten," he grumbled out, trying not to look out the window. The woman sighed, patting his arm comfortingly before speaking.

"About this morning…"

"Look, Kirsten, I'm sorry about not following your rules, but I'm not sorry I did it." She sighed, settling back into the seat and watching the movie playing.

"Who picks these movies?" she murmured, frowning at the screen. Ryan made an impatient noise, shifting uncomfortably. Kirsten sighed. "Look, Ryan, I'm just worried, that's all. Sandy told me how you two got together…" she smiled, shaking her head, "really, Ryan. On a teacher's desk?" He blushed furiously. He hated these conversations with Kirsten – she was the _last_ person on earth he wanted to talk to about his sex life. "And that's what's worrying me: that this is going too fast. I like Taylor, and she's Sandy's assistant, we don't want you to hurt her. Imagine how awkward that would be for Sandy, not to mention how upset she would be. I just want to be sure she's not just another one of those girls…"

Ryan jumped a little, startled. "Wait, how do you know about that?" He'd never told her, or Sandy, for that matter… he glanced over at her, and she looked away guiltily. "I'm gonna _kill_ Seth…"

* * *

Taylor came out of the bathroom, cringing a little at the thought. She hated public restrooms, and usually avoided them at all costs, but airplanes made it hard to avoid. She froze when she was halfway down the aisle. Kirsten was sitting in her seat, having what looked like a very uncomfortable conversation with Ryan. There was _no way_ she was going over there and interrupting. So she looked around, and went to sit next to Sandy.

"Hey, kiddo," the man greeted. "Long time, no talk."

He was right, of course. She hadn't talked to Sandy alone for a while. "I know," she smiled, glancing over at Kirsten and Ryan, then back to Sandy. He caught the look, and nodded sagely.

"Very smart, not going over there," he waved in the two blondes' general direction. "I believe they're talking about last night…"

Taylor blushed heavily – great, Sandy knew. But looking up at him, he didn't look angry, or judging. He just looked amused. "Ryan says she's upset because she doesn't want him getting into anything he's not serious about…" she trailed off when Sandy snorted.

"I don't know why she's worried." He shook his head with a smile, then noticed that Taylor looked confused. "I mean, come on! The kid's obviously got it bad."

"Really?" she whispered, delighted. It had been wonderful hearing it from Ryan last night – when he let slip that he was serious about her – and also from Summer this morning, but she hadn't realized how much Sandy's opinion mattered. Looking at the man, she remembered when her own father – exhausted and angry – had left. Sandy was the opposite of that man – bright, funny, caring.

"Really," Sandy confirmed brightly. "I don't think I've ever seen that kid smile so much." The man looked over at his adopted son affectionately before continuing. "Back in high school there were glimpses of it, but… there was always something going wrong back then, you've heard the stories. Then his first year of college, he got worse, you know? Cause of Marissa dying. Seth told us about his little indiscretions. I can't say I support that kind of behavior, but I understand it. Over the summer, when Seth and Summer came back from Rhode Island, he got better. I think they kind of snapped him out of it – especially Summer, because she was having the same problems he was. There was a time in her first year where I think she stopped showering… Seth was none too happy with that." Taylor giggled, glad that Summer was back in the land of the clean. "And then he met you, and I can honestly say I've never seen him laugh as much as he has with you."

She let out a little breathless 'oh', dropping her gaze to her lap. Sandy laughed and patted her affectionately on the shoulder. She still couldn't meet his eyes, so she looked up at the movie screen instead. "Titanic?" she wrinkled her nose at the movie, "isn't that a little inappropriate?"

Sandy barked out a laugh, looking up front as well. "I know! I was thinking the same thing. I mean, why would _anyone _show this to another human being? It's like torture…"

Taylor shook her head at the man, breaking out into a giant smile. "I meant 'inappropriate' because of the subject matter. It's not really the best way to boost morale, you know, showing a bunch of people dying as they travel?"

"Well, that too," Sandy amended with a smile.

* * *

"Oh, Kirsten!" the girl stood up hastily, evacuating the seat next to Sandy.

"Sorry I took your seat," Kirsten apologized with a smile. "But it's free now, and I think Ryan may need you."

The three of them all looked over to the boy, who was gripping the armrests painfully, eyes shut tightly and body pressed as far as it could go into the seat. Taylor sighed, shaking her head, and went over to sit with him.

"So what did you two talk about?" Sandy asked as his wife sat down. "Please tell me you didn't do any damage…"

"I didn't!" she protested with a small laugh, hitting his harm. "I just wanted to hear his story, that's all."

"And his story was…?"

"Apparently, he's quite taken with her."

"Well, I could've told you that," Sandy slipped his hand into hers when she looked at him doubtfully. "It's obvious that he really likes her – have you seen how whipped he is? And I should know," he added, bringing their combined hands to his lips and kissing the back of her hand. Kirsten tried to look stern at her husband's antics, but she couldn't quite pull it off.

"Fine," she relented. "I'll stop meddling."

_

* * *

_

May I remind everyone that I have NO idea where this story is going? Seriously. So please, review and give me the inspiration I need! Go on, you know you want to…


	7. Chapter 7

_So… um… I guess this is a little late, huh? Sorry! I think the lack of drama in this story is throwing me a little. So I hope you all enjoy, and sorry again for the delay!_

* * *

Taylor dropped onto the bench with a sigh, throwing a stack of letters on the picnic table.

"Everything ok?" Sandy asked with a smile, shifting some of his own papers out of the way to make room for her.

"Oh, perfect," she replied sarcastically. "It seems my mother decided _my_ mail wasn't important enough to give to me at a decent time, so she sent a month's worth all at once."

"She sounds like a fantastic woman," Sandy pointed his drink at her before putting the straw to his mouth.

Taylor nodded without looking up at him, rifling through the letters, "oh, she is. I think she's actually trying for Mother of the Year." She felt Ryan's arm wrap around her waist, and she relaxed into him.

"So Ryan," Sandy began, and Taylor relaxed even more as the two men fell into an easy conversation about school and Ryan's family. She sorted her letters: bills, junk, one birthday card from her father – two months late, thank you very much, and signed in her uncle's handwriting – and one letter printed in a horrifyingly familiar script.

"What's wrong?" Ryan halted his conversation with Sandy, and she realized she must have tensed up. She sighed, wondering if she should try to hide this. But she promised herself - after _finally_ making friends and finding someone - she wouldn't play games like she had in high school.

"Remember how I was telling you about that guy I was married to for like, three months?"

"Uh huh," he answered warily, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sandy's eyebrows shoot up. He knew about Henri-Michel, but she assumed he was eager for the story.

"Well, I think he's coming to Berkeley." She scanned the letter quickly, making sure she got it right. "To promote his second book…" she trailed off. She had no idea he had a second book. Oh, she hoped it wasn't a sequel…

"It's not a sequel is it?" Ryan muttered, a little angrily, and she wondered if he could read her mind.

"I don't know," she frowned. "But he says he'll be here in a month, so we have some time…"

"Wait," Sandy interrupted, eyebrows furrowing. "Is this the same month your mother kept your letters?" Taylor's eyes widened, and she looked at the top of the letter for the date.

"Oh crap."

* * *

"I'm so nervous," she whispered, and Ryan tried to keep his annoyance down. "Oh God, why did she have to keep my letters so long? If I'd had more time, I could tell him not to come…"

"Taylor, it's ok." He grabbed her hand under the table, and she gave him a pitiful look. "He's just coming to promote his book, which _isn't_ a sequel." Thank God. The second book turned out to be some philosophical writing, interjected with hippie political commentary. _Definitely_ not the thinly veiled porn his first book had been. Ryan wished he had _never_ read that. He wished he'd just listened to Taylor, but he wanted to know what the book really was about. He really should've just read the SparkNotes.

"I know," she squeezed his hand, "but I just have this bad feeling he's going to try and win me back. He's not good at handling rejection."

"Well," he sighed, trying not to smile, "I haven't punched anyone in a while…"

She giggled, and he congratulated himself for getting her to break a smile. "You can't punch him," she shook her head, still smiling, "you'd break him."

He was about to ask what she meant when he felt her stiffen, and he looked toward the front door of the restaurant. Oh, that explained it. The guy was taller, but he was thin and looked like he had absolutely no muscle on him at all. Plus, he was really scruffy, and he looked like he hadn't bathed in a while…

The guy spotted them, breaking into a smile and coming towards them. "Ma pêche!"

"Oh God," she groaned, putting her fingertips to her temple.

"ça me fait plaisir de te voir!" he cried, sitting down at their table across from Taylor and leaning forward excitedly. "Tu es magnifique!"

"Et on dirait que tu ne t'es pas douché depuis des mois," she replied, a little coldly, which made Ryan feel better, but the man just laughed.

"I see my peaches, she is not so happy to see me," he remarked in broken English.

"Maybe it's because you keep showing up where I'm living. At least this time it's not to promote some fictionalized story of our meeting."

The man sighed, "I thought you would be happy, peaches. It was a tribute to you! To how wonderful and passionate and sensual-" Ryan cleared his throat loudly, and the Frenchman seemed to notice him for the first time. "Ah, you must be the man who is now enjoying my peaches…"

"Good Lord," Taylor murmured next to him, closing her eyes tightly. Ryan decided he had enough of this smug bastard, who was obviously trying to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

"Ryan Atwood," he extended his hand, and the man gripped it. Ryan almost laughed when he realized Henri-Michel was trying to squeeze his hand tightly, trying to out-do him, trying to show dominance. Seriously? Well, if he wanted to play… the man's eyes went wide as Ryan adjusted his grip, smiling politely – the smile he'd seen Kirsten use countless times when she was talking to Newpsies. The man grunted and broke off the shake.

"So, Monsieur Atwood, how long have you and peaches been dating?"

Ryan shrugged, looking at Taylor, "I dunno. We've known each other for about seven months now, but we've only been officially dating for… what? Two?" She nodded in confirmation, smiling up at him.

"Not such a long time," Henri-Michel mused, rubbing his hand through his beard.

"I guess not. How long were you two married?" he replied, somehow maintaining politeness. He was proud of himself. He'd resisted the urge to lunge across the table and punch the guy for… ten minutes. Must be a record.

"We were married for three months," Taylor answered for the man, narrowing her eyes at him. "But I really only spent a couple weeks with him in France. The rest of our marriage, I spent in Newport trying to divorce him."

"Yes, well," Henri-Michel shifted, looking uncomfortable. "It is nice to see my peaches happy. And I am sad to say that I must go now, to promote my book. Have you read it?" He directed the last part at Ryan, as if challenging him, as if asking _'are you smart enough to read it?'_

"No," Ryan rested his forearms on the tabletop, leaning towards the man. "But I did read your first book, and, really, I must thank you." Henri-Michel looked startled, and he could tell Taylor was too. She knew what his reaction had been to the book, but this was about winning the argument, damn it. "I mean, Taylor told me it was mostly made up, but it _has_ given me some very interesting ideas…" he turned his head slightly to smirk at his girlfriend, and he watched her eyes glaze over as she became lost in thought. "I mean, page 42?"

"You… recreated page 42?" the other man sounded unsure, flicking his glance over to Taylor, who was still staring at Ryan, eyes wide and dazed.

"Well not yet," he let his voice dip lower, eyes locked on Taylor, "but I definitely have a plan in the works…"

It was Henri-Michel's turn to clear his throat, causing the couple to break their staring contest. "I really must be going. My publisher, he is waiting for me at the bookstore." He started to stand up, but paused midway, reaching his hand across the table to grab onto Taylor's. "Jusqu'à notre prochaine rencontre."

"En espérant que ce ne soit pas tout de suite," she muttered darkly, glaring at him as he walked out of the restaurant.

"How did you ever marry that guy?" he shook his head and she sighed.

"I was drunk." He paused, looking at it her for a second before starting to laugh. "What?" she giggled, "it's true…"

"And it makes me feel a lot better about your taste in guys," he joked, reaching for his glass of Coke now that he was relaxed enough to think about eating. She shifted in her seat, turning to face him.

"I don't know what my 'type' is, really," she frowned. "I mean, there was Henri-Michel, and this one guy at my school who was Korean, and now there's you. You're all so completely different, I don't think I _have_ a type."

"Do you need one?" he shrugged. "I mean, I had Theresa when I was younger, who was just completely down-to-Earth. And then there was Marissa, who was kinda the opposite – very up in her own world. I won't even go into those girls I… 'dated' my first year here, and you."

"Which one am I?" she asked with a smile, "down-to-Earth, or in my own world?"

He laughed, breaking into a grin. "You're definitely in your own world," he laughed harder when she slapped him playfully on the arm. "But not like Marissa was. You're very aware of other people; she was always too wrapped up in her own stuff to notice anything. So I guess you're a little of both. Except crazy."

She blushed, looking down at the table. "You think I'm crazy?"

"Totally," he replied nonchalantly, smirking into his glass. "And I can't wait to try out page 42 with you."

* * *

"So," she panted, rolling onto her back and looking up at the ceiling. "_That's_ what page 42'd be like…"

"Yeah," he grinned, turning his head to look at her. "You think we should send Henri-Michel a thank you note?" She giggled at the thought, turning back to him and burying her face into his chest.

"I'd rather just never think about him again," she muttered and felt his hand slide around her waist. "I'd like him to be just a footnote in my future biography. You know '_one summer after high school she went temporarily insane and married some French guy in an effort to feel less alone.'_"

"Biography?" he asked, pulling away a little to see her face.

"Oh, I plan on being a famous psychologist. I'll need a biography," she rolled her eyes at him like it was obvious, and he laughed.

"Uh huh, and when they're talking about me…?"

"Well, see, after she regained her sanity, she moved back home and started going to Berkeley. She thought her troubles were over, but she still had no friends, and she was all alone."

"Poor girl," he murmured, brushing the hair off her forehead.

"Oh, but the story has a good ending," she sighed, shifting closer to him. "She started working for a man who was the first person to be truly nice to her."

"He sounds like a good guy."

"He was. And he had a son, and when the girl met him, she couldn't help but notice how very, very sexy he was," she grinned into his chest as he laughed. "But then she realized that this boy was more than that. He was smart," she pressed a kiss to his chest, "and sweet," she kissed him again, "and funny, and loyal, and a _very_ good kisser."

"Really?" Ryan grunted, rolling her onto her back and getting on top of her.

"Really." She smiled when he pressed his lips to her. "Hey," she giggled, breaking away, "don't you wanna hear the rest of the story?"

"I think I can figure it out," he grinned. "Now, page 42 was all well and good, but page 117? I was thinking we could try _that_ one out."

"But Ryan," she gasped, shocked, "why would a proper lady like myself do such a thing?"

"Because," he whispered, letting his lips hover over hers, "you find me very, very sexy."

* * *

"So how'd it go?"

Ryan sighed, leaning back against the bench and squinting a little in the sunlight. Next to him, Sandy was eating and ignoring the term papers in his briefcase. "It was… actually not that bad. I expected a _lot_ worse, but the guy was…"

"Nice?" Sandy supplied helpfully.

"Pathetic, actually. Scrawny, weak, and really arrogant. Made me feel a hell of a lot better." He decided to leave out the part about page 42. And page 117? Just thinking about it made him tighten, and he rubbed his palms on his jeans.

"Well, either way, I think this was good. I mean, it's your first big relationshipy moment, right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Which is good, cause now I guess there's nothing left to worry about." Which was nice, he thought. No drama, no heartbreak. It was nice having a real girlfriend. Having a mature relationship. Not that they weren't juvenile sometimes – he remembered one time he'd chased her around Sandy's classroom before their jury duty started. And sometimes they played checkers and watched Saturday morning cartoons, but he meant _mature_ in the sense that they weren't constantly trying to make their relationship work. Which sounds awful, but he'd always _hated _that – how he and his other girlfriends had to _try_ to be happy. With Taylor he just… was.

It was nice. And now that he'd met the ex, there was nothing else to worry about.

"Except her mother," Sandy commented drily.

"Crap."

_

* * *

_

Yeah, I had a little too much fun with babelfish in this chapter. It's probably not real French, but it's what the internet gave me… so here are translations if you want:

"_My peaches! It's good to see you! You look beautiful!" --"And you look like you haven't showered in a month."_

"_Until we meet again." -- "Hopefully not too soon."_

_Review!_

_edit: EmilyRoseKeys was nice enough to give me... *ahem* better French than whatever babelfish spit out at me. So much thanks!_


	8. Chapter 8

_Ok, so I'm a tad bit nervous, cause with the no plot/no drama thing, I feel like I'm not at my best. Seriously, the smut and drama bunnies are not happy. But I'm ignoring them…_

_Read and enjoy!_

* * *

"Are you suicidal?"

Summer groaned and rolled over, blinking sleep out of her eyes and tracking her boyfriend as he paced through her small dorm room. She wished he wasn't so _loud_ sometimes, because she didn't have classes on Fridays, and she'd like to sleep in for once. Protesting took a lot of energy…

"But seriously? Facing down the mother? Is that _really_ a good idea? I mean, _Julie Cooper_ can barely handle the woman, what makes you think you can? Cause no offense, Ryan, but you are _no_ hardened Newpsie. And considering your past indiscretions with Newport's finest, I'm really thinking this isn't good."

Summer groaned and sat up, looking around hopelessly for her shirt. She couldn't find it, so she grabbed Cohen's instead, grimacing at the worn thing with some random band's logo printed on the front. Then she stood and grabbed her hairbrush, trying to detangle the rat's nest that was currently residing on her head. She heard Cohen sigh.

"Fine, man, but good luck. And if she kills you, can I have your stereo? Summer spilled soy milk on mine, and it hasn't been working properly since…"

"Everything ok?" she asked distractedly when he hung up. She should really just shave her head – hair was annoying sometimes. But she didn't think Cohen would appreciate the bald look, so she resigned herself to many detanglings in the future.

"It seems that Kid Chino is ready to take on Newport's most vicious cougar: Veronica Townsend."

"Is he crazy?" Summer huffed, _finally_ managing to get the brush through one pass without tangling.

"Apparently. And get this: it was _his_ idea. He said something about '_getting it out of the way'_."

She finished combing her hair and put the brush down. Then she turned to her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow. "And we get his stereo?"

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Taylor picked at her nails and looked over to where Ryan was driving, hands tight on the steering wheel. She wasn't so sure this was a good idea, but Ryan had insisted, saying something about wanting to get the bad stuff out of the way so it didn't come back to bite them. She appreciated the gesture – really, she did – but this was insane. Usually _she_ was the one with the crazy ideas, but this one was worse than anything _she'd_ ever come up with.

"I'm starting to think this was a bad idea." She looked over at him and couldn't help the snort of laughter. He flashed a grin at her before turning back to the road. "I haven't been to Newport in… God, over a year. The last time I was here was to help Julie and Kaitlin move."

"That's right, I forgot she lived in Newport before Berkeley. Why'd she move?" They both relaxed a little now that they had something else to focus on.

"Well, she said that with Kirsten gone, there was no one left she could stand. Plus, she wanted to be with Frank, and Frank…"

"Wanted to be near you?" She hid a smile as he shifted uncomfortably, nodding. "That's so cute!"

"Or incredibly embarrassing, depends on how you look at it."

"I'm going with cute," she nodded, biting her lip when he tried to glare. "Turn left here."

Her sudden direction brought them both crashing back into reality. He made a left, and her heart rate picked up. Only ten more minutes until they faced down the demon.

* * *

"No. No, I said _red_ tablecloths, not blue. Why would I want _blue_ tablecloths? Do you really think _blue_ says '_I'm a winner'_? No. Blue says calm. I want red, so you'd better go and get me _red_ tablecloths, or heads will roll, do you hear me?" Veronica Townsend shut her cell phone with a huff, turning to face her guests. "Jesus, dealing with caterers is like dealing with animals. They can't do anything right."

Taylor smiled tightly while Ryan looked confused. Their waitress shot a glare at the woman, who took absolutely no notice. Apparently her view on waitresses was in the 'animal' category as well. They placed their orders – the two college students shooting the waitress apologetic looks.

"So Brian…"

"Um, it's Ryan," he shifted uncomfortably, smoothing down the front of his shirt.

"Ryan," the woman repeated with a wave of her hand, "you said you were from Newport originally? I don't think I've heard of the Atwoods." She paused, eyes narrowing, "did you live in the numbered streets?"

"Uh, no. I lived with the Cohens… Sandy and Kirsten Cohen?" He waited for the recognition to come… and there it was.

"_You're_ the boy from Chino?" She gave a startled laugh, picking up her glass of wine. "I thought you looked familiar."

"You two met before?" Taylor looked between her mother and her boyfriend, feeling slightly nauseous. She shouldn't be jealous that even her _mother_ got to meet Ryan before she did.

"Yeah, I think you tried to get me kicked out like… three times?"

"Four," Veronica corrected with a shrug.

"Oh my God," Taylor sighed, putting her hand to her temple. "Mother!"

"What?" the woman shot back defensively. "_Obviously_ it didn't work."

"That's not the point. I'm sorry, Ryan," she apologized, turning to him. He shrugged and gave her a smile, taking her hand under the table.

"And now you're going to Berkeley with Taylor?" He nodded, and she rolled her eyes. "Taylor was _supposed_ to go the Sorbonne, but she dropped out."

"Yeah, I heard about the whole Henri-Michel thing," he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. "I actually met him…"

"Isn't he horrifying?" she groaned, and he couldn't help but grin. Maybe this woman wasn't so bad if she agreed with him about the French bastard. "She has absolutely horrible taste in men."

He was about to laugh again, but froze. The woman had used present tense. She _has_ absolutely horrible taste in men. Well, that was just fantastic. Next to him, Taylor groaned and brought her other hand up to her forehead.

* * *

"So I'm thinking that was a bad idea."

She broke into hysterical laughter – not because what he said was particularly _funny_, but because she was stressed, and that was just the most obvious statement in the world. "You think?" she managed, leaning her forehead against the cold window of his car. It was nice – the glass cooled her heated skin, and she started to breathe easier. She hated having dinner with her mother – it was _always_ like that. But something about this time made it even worse.

Because Ryan had seen it.

Oh God, she hoped Ryan didn't rethink this whole relationship because of her stupid mother. She'd seen it happen before; one time she brought a boy home for fall break back in high school, and her mother had scared the boy off within the first half hour. "I'm sorry," she whispered now that she'd calmed down enough. She couldn't look at him, though. She didn't want to see his annoyance and disgust.

"Taylor."

And she looked up at him, because that's what his voice did to her. He gave her an amused smile – never taking his eyes off the road. "It's ok. Believe me, I've dealt with my fair share of horrible mothers."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Before Julie became the _nice_ Julie, she was horrible to me. And Theresa's mom almost took off a few fingers with a steak knife when she found me and Theresa going at it in the kitchen." Taylor let out a relieved giggle, twisting in the seat so the back of her head rested against the glass. "Although, dismemberment aside, I think yours takes the cake."

"I know," she whined, scrunching up her face, which made him laugh.

"I really wanted to say something to her," he sighed, and she remembered how he'd handled Henri-Michel.

"You should've," she frowned. Why hadn't he? It wasn't like Ryan to just sit back and take shit from anyone, let alone a Newpsie (oh, she _loved_ that term).

"She's your mom," he shrugged. "I think if there's one thing I've learned, it's that you can't change who your real parents are. You can pretend, but sometimes blood is thicker than water. And I don't want to make the situation worse between you and your mom, cause someday she might get better." Taylor let out a snort, because really? She doubted Veronica Townsend would ever change. "No, really," he protested, and she frowned at his expression. He was brooding. "I mean, look at my parents. They went from being abusive alcoholics, and now they're really making a go of it."

"Yeah." She still didn't believe her mother would ever love her, but she wanted to make Ryan happy, so she let it drop. Who cared about her mother, anyway? It's not like she ever saw her that much. "But she was right." He turned briefly to her, raising one eyebrow in question. Taylor leaned back against her seat with an evil smile. "I _do_ have horrible taste in men."

* * *

"You never told me my mother tried to get Ryan kicked out of Harbor," Taylor sighed, sitting in the chair opposite Sandy's desk. The man shrugged.

"I figured you knew."

"My mother and I don't exactly talk," she opened the reference book in front of her, eyes skimming over the pages. Even after almost a year with Sandy, she still didn't get half of this legal stuff. It was just so tedious…

"Was it a problem?"

"Not really. She was her normal venomous self, and Ryan handled it very well."

"He's come a long way." Off her curious look, he smiled and put down his own book. "He wasn't always so… good with the handling."

She paused, leaning back in her chair. "Tell me about him."

* * *

"…now, granted, Greg Fischer started it, but Ryan dove right in. Not his usual style of punching, though, more of a tackle, really…"

Taylor giggled and Sandy smiled nostalgically. He'd been regaling her for the past half hour with all of Ryan's… encounters since he'd joined the family. "I can't believe he tackled someone's father in public…" she shook her head. Ryan had told her that he'd had a rage problem back in Chino and Newport, but hearing it from Sandy made it a little more real. Actually, hearing it from Sandy made it a little less dire than Ryan had made it sound. She was glad, though, that he'd calmed down somewhat in college, because she wasn't so sure she wanted a violent boyfriend. She couldn't understand why any girl would be ok with her boyfriend risking safety – not to mention his future – just to 'defend' her. She promised that if Ryan ever went through with his threat to punch Henri-Michel, she'd have to have a very long talk with him. Still, the thought of angry, sweaty Ryan was _quite_ nice…

"What's going on?"

She'd been so wrapped up in her thoughts that she hadn't heard the door open. "Ryan!" Sandy greeted with a grin. "We were just talking about you."

"Uh huh…" he dropped warily into the chair next to Taylor, quirking an eyebrow. She beamed at him, which just seemed to make him more uncomfortable. "Sandy, what've you done?"

"I was just telling Ms. Townsend here about Cotillion…"

Ryan let out a groan, leaning back in his chair. "Thanks, Sandy. But she already knows I'm a terrible dancer…"

"Actually, he was telling me about your penchant for tackling middle-aged men?" she made it into a question, stifling a laugh when he flushed red.

"It was _one_ middle aged man. Everyone else I beat up was my age… except Dean Hess."

"Are you sure?" Sandy mused, leaning back and pressing the tips of his fingers together, "there must've been more than just Greg."

"Yeah, well, there _will_ be if you don't stop trying to freak out my girlfriend by telling her how violent I am."

"Ryan, don't threaten your father!"

"Yeah, don't threaten your father," Sandy mocked, watching Taylor glare at his son. "Now," he continued smugly, "go to your room."

_

* * *

_

Ok, seriously? I'm plotless. I have no plot, and absolutely no idea where this story is going. I'm just kinda… making stuff up as I go, so I hope its ok!

_Review and make me feel better!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Ok, so remember how plotless I am? Well, I've decided that this story is going to be the place where all my random ideas go (the ones that don't make it into one-shots). Like any idea that doesn't fit into another story? I'm going to put it here. That way, I get to keep at least one fic open and drama-free._

_Also, a little warning for this chapter: I've never taken care of a baby, so if any of my stuff is wrong blame my lack of knowledge and Wikipedia. Have I mentioned how much I love Wikipedia? I don't care if it's made up._

_Written to 'Drain You', 'Milk It', and 'Lounge Act' by Nirvana._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

"This is a bad idea."

Ryan looked over at her, lifting an eyebrow. "You _like_ Sophie."

"I know I like Sophie," Taylor sighed, blowing the bangs out of her face. "That's why this is a bad idea."

"Uh huh," he focused back on the road, shaking his head. "Your logic does not resemble our Earth logic."

She huffed again in frustration, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know how big of a spaz I am," she reminded him, "taking care of small children? Not a good idea." He laughed lightly, shaking his head again. "It's not funny!"

"Look, Sandy and Kirsten wouldn't have asked you to help babysit if they didn't trust you," he tried to reassure her.

"Ok, but Sandy and Kirsten haven't seen me walk into doors and trip over my own feet."

"You'll be fine." She bit her lip nervously, but didn't argue back. She didn't want to be annoying and make Ryan hate her. It was almost frightening, how much she didn't want Ryan to hate her. And she was determined _not_ to screw this up like every other relationship she'd ever had. "Hey," she glanced over at him, his voice low and calm and he caught her eye briefly before looking back at the road, "you'll be fine. I'll be there to make sure nothing happens. I think I'm coordinated enough for the both of us," he joked, lightening the mood, and she giggled. "Plus, Sandy and Kirsten need a weekend away."

"They do," she agreed, feeling better about the situation already. The Cohens were amazing parents, and with Sandy's job and Kirsten dealing with the baby, they barely got time for themselves. So – despite her better judgment and fear of accidentally killing Sophie – she'd agreed to help Ryan babysit the girl while the Cohens took a long weekend. Yes, she liked Sophie, and the prospect of spending three days in a house with Ryan was quite appealing, but still. She'd spent all last week having nightmares where she would be at the Cohen's and little Sophie would drown in the bathtub, or fall down the stairs, or have a giant anvil fall on her.

Ok, so the giant anvil thing probably wouldn't happen, but the dreams still freaked her out.

But Ryan seemed perfectly alright with it. Sure, he'd been helping to take care of the girl since she'd been born, so it gave him a year's head start, but Taylor decided that Ryan was just a natural. Even Seth wasn't as good with his little sister as Ryan was – although maybe that was because he was in Rhode Island for nine months out of the year while Ryan was little more than twenty minutes away.

It had shocked her, the first time she'd seen Ryan interact with Sophie. He was not the kind of guy she'd peg for being good with children – considering he was normally quiet and broody – but when he was around the girl, he lit up. It made Taylor's body warm over and her stomach do that flip-floppy thing that happened whenever he'd smile at her.

Ryan would be an amazing father.

She shook her head violently, which caused said boy in question to shoot her a weird look. But she smiled at him with a shrug. "Weird thoughts." He nodded – he expected stuff like this from her. Seriously, though. She needed to keep thoughts like _that_ out of her head. They'd been together less than three months. It was _way_ too early to be thinking of children.

* * *

She and Ryan stood on the porch of the Berkeley house and waved as Sandy's car pulled out of the drive.

"What was that talk about?" she asked when the car disappeared from view, and the two – plus Sophie, who was currently asleep in Ryan's arms – turned back to the house.

"Oh, Sandy just wanted to remind me that we're _not_ alone in the house." Off her confused expression, he continued, "you and me alone. He wanted to make sure we don't… what was the phrase he used? 'Go at it like jackrabbits and ruin my daughter's innocence'." He gave her a grin before heading upstairs to Sophie's nursery. Taylor followed him up.

"Well he's right," she agreed, and Ryan actually threw a startled glance over his shoulder.

"Hold on," he quickened his pace and put Sophie down in her crib, making sure she was settled before exiting the room and closing the door. "What do you mean he's right?"

"Well, we can't do _that_ in front of Sophie!" she explained, because _duh_.

"But she's sleeping now," he shrugged, gesturing behind him at the closed door. "We can still take advantage of the _nearly_ empty house." She watched the familiar smile quirk his lips up, and she stumbled back as he moved forward.

And – of course – she backed right into the wall.

"Ow."

"You ok?"

She nodded, rubbing the back of her head where it had connected with the wall. How was she supposed to take care of a child when she couldn't even walk? Her thoughts were interrupted when Ryan placed his right hand on the wall next to her head, leaning forward. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and she took a deep breath as he moved closer… Her gaze went to the hand propped against the wall, holding the baby monitor.

"We can't!" she placed her palms on his chest and pushed him away. He stumbled back, looking confused. "Sophie!"

* * *

"So Ryan just called Seth." Taylor let out a whine at Summer's amused voice, laying down on the couch on her side and curling up into a ball. "Is he being broody?"

"Of course he's being broody," she complained, closing her eyes. "He's acting like a petulant child who can't have a piece of cake."

"Seth gets like that when I'm not in the mood," Summer sighed on the other end of the line.

"It's not that I'm not in the mood," she corrected. "But I just… _can't_ with Sophie in the house."

"That makes sense."

"Ryan doesn't seem to think so. He called me insane then went off to brood. Like I'm cutting him off forever!" She heard Summer snort in disdain, to which she wholeheartedly agreed.

"Well, sorry, but from what I overheard, Seth wasn't helping your cause. I'll hit him for you."

"Thanks." She gave a loud sigh, twisting to lie on her back. "So how are finals?"

"A bitch. But at least it's almost done."

"I know. And then you get to come home for summer!" Taylor said excitedly, immediately brightened by the idea. A shadow crossed the door, and she looked up. "Oh, speak of the devil," she muttered into the phone, and heard Summer laugh.

"I'll talk to you later. Tell Atwood to lighten the hell up."

"I will. Bye."

* * *

"Taylor, its baby food. It comes in a jar. You can't really mess it up."

"I know," she whined, looking at the collection of jars in the cabinet. "But what if she doesn't like what I pick out? What if she chokes? I don't know how to perform the Heimlich on a baby! Do _you,_ Ryan? Because if she starts choking, we'll have to try and get her to the hospital, and I just don't think we'll have time, and then she'll die, and Sandy and Kirsten and Seth and Summer and you will hate me, and-"

"Taylor." His voice was calm and commanding, and it shut her up. He kissed her forehead lightly, then tapped her on the nose. "I'll feed her."

"Ok."

* * *

"See?" he rumbled in her ear, one hand wrapped around her waist, the other around her shoulders as they stood in the doorway of Sophie's room, watching the girl sleep. "She's fine."

Taylor sighed, relaxing, and let her head fall back onto his shoulder. She'd made it a day without incident. Ok, maybe that was because she hadn't actually _done_ anything, despite Ryan's repeated attempts to get her to interact with the child. But see? Letting Ryan do all the work was going great. "She's so beautiful," she murmured and felt his arms tighten around her.

"Yeah." He planted a kiss on the side of her head, and she closed her eyes. "Let's get some sleep. I'm exhausted." She nodded and let him pull her to the guest bedroom. He definitely looked like he needed sleep.

* * *

A cry came over the baby monitor, and she heard Ryan groan in protest. She opened her eyes and saw him push himself upright for the third time that night. He looked absolutely exhausted – eyes red, hair mussed.

"I'll get it." It took a few seconds for her words to register, and he shrugged.

"It's ok. I know you don't want to."

"No, really. I can do it." She tugged his arm, and he really didn't protest as he dropped back onto the mattress.

"You sure?" he asked groggily, eyes already closing.

"Yeah. Go to sleep." She got out of bed and padded out of the room and down to Sophie's.

Inside, the girl was making some noise of protest, twisting around in her crib. Taylor knew immediately what the problem was – the smell was unmistakable. She stood over the crib and steeled herself before bending down and picking the girl up. She tried to mimic the way Ryan had held her, carrying her over to the changing table.

Ok, what had Ryan done? Um… ok, she needed a new diaper and wipes. They were already on the table, ready and waiting. Good. Alright, step one… crap, what had Ryan done? Right. Take new diaper, open it and put it under the baby. Step two… open the old diaper? Sure, that sounded good. She undid the tabs of the diaper, and scrunched up her nose as the smell hit her. Apparently Sophie wasn't too pleased with it either, from the way she cried out. What next? She remembered Ryan lifting the girl's legs to remove the diaper, so she did the same.

This was so gross. How did Ryan do it? Her germophobia was kicking in. She needed to wash her hands _now_. She couldn't do this. She should just go get Ryan, so he could… except the image of him, getting up and rubbing his hands over his red-rimmed eyes made her change her mind. She could do this.

She removed the old diaper, grabbing for the baby wipes. Ok, this was easy. Just clean it all off – her obsessive compulsiveness was actually helping there – and put Sophie's legs back down on the clean diaper, close it up, and… _viola!_ Clean baby!

"Ew," she murmured darkly, throwing the bundle of dirty diaper and baby wipes into the dispenser. Then she grabbed more baby wipes and cleaned off her hands before picking Sophie up and placing her back in the crib. She watched as the girl blinked slowly a few times before dropping off to sleep. After a few seconds of peace, her crazy came back full force. She nearly sprinted to the bathroom, chanting little _ew_'s as she ran.

She spent the next seven minutes scrubbing furiously at her hands, making sure she cleaned all the way up to the elbow. _Finally_ her brain let her calm down, and she rinsed the soap off and dried her hands. That was so gross.

But it was all worth it, she decided when she got back to the guest bedroom and saw Ryan sleeping peacefully, on his side and facing where she had been laying. She got back into bed slowly – so as not to wake him – and moved as close to him as possible. He made some noise in his sleep, and she panicked for a second that she'd been too loud, but instead of waking up, he shifted and draped an arm around her before settling back into silence.

Totally worth it.

* * *

"You're sure I'm doing it right?" she asked for the tenth time. Ryan smiled indulgently and nodded, leaning back on the swing. It moved slightly with the change of position, and Taylor's heart leapt. She wished they were on a stationary object while she held Sophie. "You'd tell me if I was doing it wrong, right? Like if I wasn't supporting her head enough?"

"You're doing fine."

She wasn't sure how he could be so patient with her. She was being so annoying – really, she hadn't stopped questioning herself since the moment he'd given the baby to her. But he was so amazing, murmuring reassurances that she wasn't going to screw up and kill the child.

* * *

The second night was easier – Sophie only woke them up once. Taylor had tried to get up but Ryan had been determined not to let her. He'd kissed her and made her lie down again and told her to get more sleep. She'd watched him leave the room, hair mussed from sleeping, clothes wrinkled. He was absolutely beautiful, and she'd followed him into Sophie's room to watch him change the diaper. After he'd finished and cleaned up, she'd followed him back to their room.

He'd kissed her, and she'd gotten over her qualms about Sophie being two rooms down and Sandy's warning not to corrupt his daughter.

* * *

Sophie squealed in delight as Ryan held up her favorite toy. She tried to grab it from him, but he held it out of her reach, and Taylor watched him smile. And it wasn't just a shy smile, or a half smile, or that dirty smirk he used with her. It was a full-fledged grin that lit up the room and her world, even though it was directed at the one-year-old sitting on the living room floor. She pressed a hand to her heart and smiled down at the blonde pair on the floor, both laughing and smiling and full of brightness. She sat down on the floor next to them, and he looked at her, and the smile didn't go away. Sunlight flooded the room, and the sound of Sophie's giggles filled the space, and Taylor had never felt this at peace.

"You're going to make a great father," she murmured happily, leaning back on her hands to watch them.

"What?" His hand froze, and Sophie managed to finally grab the toy away from him. She giggled in delight and rolled onto her side, gripping the toy. Unfortunately, Ryan wasn't as happy as his sister.

"What?" Taylor asked back, hoping – _praying_ – that if she played dumb, he'd let it go. Apparently, he wasn't fooled.

"Taylor," he protested, pushing himself off the floor, and she quickly got up too. They moved toward the kitchen, far enough away from Sophie so the girl wouldn't have to hear their conversation, but close enough to still see her. "Are you…" he hesitated a second, "are you pregnant?"

"What? God, no," she tried to sound reassuring, and he let out a shaky breath and put a hand over his eyes. "I'm sorry, it was just… you know how random my brain is. I just saw you sitting there, and it popped into my head, and you know me, anything that goes into my head comes out my mouth without thinking, and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out…"

"Taylor," she shut up, and he removed the hand from his face, "it's just… father? We've only been dating for four months-"

"Three," she corrected, which didn't exactly make him look any more reassured.

"Don't you think it's a little early to be thinking about… _that_?"

"Of course it is," she sighed. Great. She'd heard about committophobe Ryan. He hadn't reared his ugly head until now. Although, to be fair, giving him a pregnancy scare while they were still in college and had only been dating for three months _was_ freak-out worthy. "Which is why I was trying to stop things like that from coming out."

"So you've thought about this before?" his voice rose a little, eyes going wide. Crap. She didn't say anything, but he got it anyway. "Oh my God."

"Look, I don't _want_ to have babies, Ryan," she tried to take his hand, and decided to start believing in God again when he let her. "Do I look like I want to be a mother? I'm terrified of babies. It's just my crazy head, I can't help it."

"Yeah, ok," he sighed, shoulders relaxing slightly. "I just had a Theresa flashback…" She nodded, remembering the story he'd told her.

"You're ok?" He nodded, so she rephrased her question, "we're ok?" He nodded again, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. Her cheek. So they weren't as ok as they used to be, but she hoped he'd get over it soon. "Let's get some lunch," she suggested, hoping food would calm him down.

"Yeah, ok," he agreed, going into the living room to get Sophie before reentering the kitchen. He placed the girl in her chair while Taylor moved around for sandwich makings. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up again. "You're still on the pill, right?"

Looks like he wasn't getting over this any time soon.

* * *

"Thanks so much," Kirsten hugged her tightly before pulling away. She kept her hands on Taylor's shoulders, smiling warmly. "We needed this."

"No problem, Kirsten," she smiled. _This_ was the reason she'd done it. "I learned a lot." She meant that in more ways than one, and saw Ryan glare at her out of the corner of her eye.

They'd had a long talk after putting Sophie down for a nap, about how _yes_, she was still on the pill, and _no_, she was very much not ready or willing to have children just yet. He'd grudgingly admitted to overreacting to a simple statement, and agreed to not freak out anymore. Taylor wasn't so convinced, though, because when he left to go check on his sister, she swore she heard him mutter something about wearing multiple condoms and abstinence being all the rage nowadays.

She wasn't going to let it bother her, though. He hadn't broken up with her, and he was too fond of sex to go without for very long. She'd just have to wait until his twenty-year-old male sex drive kicked in, and he'd forget all about this little incident.

She decided not to tell Seth about this, though. The last thing she needed was the boy teasing his brother about being fertile, or something to that extent, and making it worse.

"Come on, we have to go study for finals," she grabbed Ryan's hand and pulled him to his car. Sandy and Kirsten laughed when he made a whine of protest, muttering darkly about not _wanting_ to study. Too bad. She was going to make him.

And in two weeks, Summer and Seth were coming home. She couldn't wait.

_

* * *

_

Review!

By the way, I totally stole a line from Buffy. Can you find it?


	10. Chapter 10

_Congrats to: (kind of) ORy (you guessed, so it only counts as half), JessMaKah, maggierose17, Lori2279, and Ave. You all guessed the Buffy line right! And for those of you who didn't: "Your logic does not resemble our Earth logic." From the episode 'The Wish'. And as I've said multiple times, I'm a giant geek, but I'm ok with it._

_So after writing 'Great Expectations', I decided I needed something a tad less depressing, so I wrote this!_

_(On a total side note: I'm so proud of me! I feel like I updated this rather quickly. Well, quickly in comparison to my past updates of this fic.)_

* * *

"Seth and Summer are coming home soon."

"Stop trying to distract me." Taylor attempted a glare, but Ryan feigned innocence – like he hadn't just tried to get her to change the subject. "Now, which philosopher came up with the Cave Allegory?" She waited patiently, note cards held primly in front of her, sitting perfectly straight in the chair. Ryan, on the other hand, was slouched back on the bed, looking indifferent and bored.

"I don't know. Aristotle?"

"Plato, Ryan," she sighed, putting the cards down on his desk. "Did you study at all?"

"No."

She huffed in annoyance. He wasn't even _ashamed_ of it. "Do you want to fail? Because you're going to if you don't study. And if you fail, you'll have to retake the class. And even if you _don't_ fail, it'll still lower your GPA, and then you won't graduate with honors, and you won't get a good job, and then you'll have to work at McDonalds, and then you'll smell like grease all the time, and I'm not sure I can date someone who smells like grease, Ryan. I don't think it's fair of you to ask that of me, because-"

"Taylor." Her speech cut off, and she shot him a sullen look. "Fine, I'll study." Sitting up straighter, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Well, if he wanted to distract her from her mission, that was a good start. The tousled look really worked for him. Although, to be fair, _every_ look worked for him. "I just don't get this philosophy stuff…"

"Of course you don't, Ryan," she sighed, getting off the chair and coming to sit with him on the bed. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she realized how that must have sounded. "Oh! Not because you're stupid or anything. It's just that you have a very mathematical mind. You like seeing a problem and finding the solution. And since you can't do that with philosophy, it's no wonder you don't 'get' it."

"Good to know you have faith in me," he smiled, leaning forward and kissing her lightly.

"Stop trying to distract me," she scolded, pushing him back, face not breaking from its serious expression. "The good news is, it isn't your major, and the class isn't asking you to philosophize. It's just asking you to memorize terms and definitions, which you can totally do. And if you think about it that way, it should be easy. Just memorize which philosopher came up with what theory, and what that theory said."

"I guess," he shrugged, still looking unsure. There was another huff from her, and this time she blew the bangs out of her face in frustration.

"Fine. I'll help you study. Maybe you just need a reward system." She got up from the bed and went back to sitting on the computer desk chair, picking up the note cards in the process.

"What kind of reward?"

"What does '_Cogito ergo sum'_ mean?"

"What's my reward?"

"Answer the question."

"Um… Oh, that's _'I think, therefore I am'_."

"Good!" she clapped excitedly, which made him laugh. "Now, if you can remember the philosopher, you get your reward."

"Shit. Um… it's that French guy. Daycart?"

"_Descartes_," she corrected his pronunciation with her perfect French one, and he rolled his eyes.

"Same thing. Now what's my reward?"

She sighed, shaking her head; he was such a child sometimes. But he got it right, so he deserved his reward. Unfortunately, she kind of just came up with the reward system thing on a whim, and hadn't planned it out further than that. She bit her lip as he waited expectantly. There had to be _something_ she could give him. If she backed out of the reward thing, it would only discourage him and make him unwilling to continue. Then a thought occurred, and she figured she might as well give the boy something he liked.

She could've started off with her shoe, but she figured that taking off her shoe would have confused him, so instead she gripped the bottom of her shirt and lifted it over her head. He looked startled for a second before breaking into a grin.

"Awesome."

* * *

"So?" She waited with baited breath as he sat down at the table next to her. The dining hall was crowded, students eating away their stress over finals or celebrating the completion of one. He sighed heavily, face devoid of all emotion, and she frowned. "You did badly?" He shrugged, that _Ryan_ shrug where he barely lifted his shoulders, like the weight of the world was pressing them down.

Then he turned to her, smirk curling his lips up. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I aced it."

"Jerk!" she slapped him on the shoulder, trying to be angry at him for making her worry, but it didn't really work because she couldn't help her smile.

"I was surprised," he continued like she hadn't hit him. "I didn't think I'd do that well, but I remembered it all. Although," he paused, leering at her, "there was this one question about Aquinas's _Chain of Being_, and I lost about five minutes because I started thinking about that time you handcuffed me to your roommate's bed…"

"Ryan!" she hissed, eyes going wide, and she looked around them to make sure no one heard. He laughed, and she glared at him, because he wasn't worried in the slightest.

* * *

She squealed happily the minute she saw the two dark-haired heads coming towards them. Off to the side she could vaguely see Ryan roll his eyes at her, but she ignored him. He was excited too, even if he was too 'manly' to admit it.

"Summer!" she grinned as her friend (!) came within speaking distance, and the other girl smiled.

"Taylor." Ok, so she was a little calmer about the reunion, but she still looked happy, which made Taylor feel justified for being overly keyed up about it. It wasn't her fault she spent twenty years of her life friendless. Well, maybe it was, but still. She had them now, and she'd be damned if she was going to waste a minute of it being 'too cool' to show emotion. So she pulled Summer into a hug, the other girl returning it forcefully.

"Nice."

They broke apart to find Seth smirking at them, nodding his head like he approved. Summer hit him over the head while Taylor giggled. She stole a glance at Ryan, who lifted his eyebrow at her –_ I'm not complaining either_. Boys. They were so predictable.

"Come on, Townsend," Summer huffed, pulling her toward the exit. "We'll let them get the bags."

She threw a grin over her shoulder, where Seth was pointing at their luggage. "It's all you, man. You know I'm no good at the physical stuff."

"That's what Summer tells me," Ryan shot back monotonously, picking up the bags and ignoring Seth's outraged gasp.

* * *

"So you've been all sorts of quiet."

She and Summer were in her dorm room, history book and papers spread around them because she still had one more final. She looked up at her friend and shrugged before looking down at her book.

"Are you that worried about your final? I mean, you haven't ranted once about anime or how great Ryan is in the sack." Taylor looked up sheepishly – she knew she tended to… _overshare_.

"It's not the final," she waved at her textbook. "This class is easy."

"Then what's up?" Summer shifted, moving to lie flat on her stomach on the bed. "Did Ryan do something? Is he still being a baby about the whole father thing? Do I have to hurt him? Cause I swear to God, I'll crush him. He may be bigger than me, but I know his weak spots, and-"

"Summer!" The other girl stopped, and Taylor couldn't help but start to giggle at the real anger on the her face. Friends were awesome. "It's not Ryan. And he got over the father thing in less than a week. All it took was my old private school uniform and a popsicle, and he forgot all about _that_ little incident." Summer nodded approvingly, not even looking that disgusted by the image of it – maybe she was getting used to Taylor's ramblings?

"Then what is it? Cause something's _definitely_ bothering you. And I need you to tell me, cause I _need_ to have one person in my life with a real problem. Not _oh my God, sea turtles are being damaged by oil,_ or Seth's even less important _oh my God, I've run out of Cheetos._"

Taylor sighed, closing her textbook. This was what friends were for, right? Helping with problems? "I guess it's kind of about Ryan. Well," she amended when Summer started to look angry, "it's not something Ryan _did_. It's just… it's almost the summer."

"That's a good thing. No school, no worries…"

"Yeah, but during the summer, I go back to Newport."

Summer paused for a second, before raising her eyebrows in understanding. "Oh."

"Yeah. And I _would_ stay in Berkeley, because I hate my mother, but she won't give me enough money to rent my own place, because 'it's a waste', and I don't have enough of my own, and Newport's nearly seven hours from here, and I know he wants a summer job-"

"Taylor."

"-and I don't even have a car, so I won't get to see him a lot, and what if he doesn't want a girlfriend he barely sees? What if he finds some other girl-"

"Taylor."

"- and decides to date her, because at least _she_ has the decency to be around? And then I'll come back in the fall, and I'll have to see him with that other girl, and I won't be able to stand it, so I'll have to stop being Sandy's assistant and being friends with you and-"

"Oh my God, Taylor_, shut up_." She slumped against the bed, pouting. "First of all, I wouldn't stop being friends with you if you and Atwood break up. Secondly? If he _does_ break up with you because of some other girl, I'll kill him. I'll kill him dead. And thirdly, why don't you just stay with the Cohens for the summer? That's what I do."

"But you've known the family for five years. And I've only been dating Ryan for less than four months. You know how he freaked out when I mentioned he'd be a good father – that wasn't even me saying I wanted babies with him. It was just a stupid comment about his parenting skills! I can't ask to stay in the same house with him for three months." She looked up at Summer and waited for the reassuring words. Instead, Summer frowned and nodded.

"That's actually fair. He would freak out. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn't do it either. I waited for the offer – even though it didn't come from Seth. Sandy and Kirsten invited me to stay. We just have to make him invite you to stay. Because the Cohens won't – they'll see it as overstepping their boundaries. They have no problem meddling in Seth's life, but they're still a little wary about pushing too hard with Ryan."

"Well, I want the invitation to come from Ryan, anyway," Taylor decided. "If he wants to give it to me, that is."

"So we have four days to convince him that he wants you to stay at his place for the summer." She sighed before sitting up. "We have a lot of work to do."

* * *

"So, Atwood…" Ryan looked up from his physics notes at his friend. They didn't get much alone time, just the two of them. But Seth had gone out to the comic book store, so Summer had taken the opportunity to come visit Ryan on campus. He'd been a little surprised when she knocked on his dorm room door, but he'd let her in and they'd sat in near-complete silence as he studied. Until now. Summer had waited long enough to start the plan. "So Atwood," she started, idly tapping a pencil on his roommate's desktop. "Taylor tells me you're getting a summer job?"

"Yeah," he shrugged, sitting back in his chair. He was at his own desk, and he sat facing her. She'd commandeered his roommate's desk and chair, refusing to sit on the bed because he and Taylor '_did the nasty there_'. "You know I get bored when I have nothing to do."

"Well," she leaned forward, trying to act like she wasn't up to something, "you have us." She didn't specify who 'us' meant – she was going to let him make that decision for himself. "And we need your full attention." _Especially Seth_, she added in her head.

He laughed a little, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. "That's why I'm getting the job." She narrowed her eyes at him, then picked up a pad of Post-It notes and threw them at him. "Plus, I wanna save up some money." Her eyes narrowed even further when she picked up his slight shrug and the way he leaned forward to look at his book again.

"Uh huh…" she goaded, leaning one arm on the desktop to get a better view of him. "Planning on buying me something pretty?"

He sighed, leaning back again in his chair. "Do you promise to not tell anyone?"

"Yes."

"Even Seth? _Especially _Seth, cause he'll freak if he found out you knew first."

"I promise." And she meant it. The last thing she needed was Seth whining about where Atwood's loyalty lay.

"Well, I was planning this trip for spring break, but Sandy and Kirsten kinda backed me into a corner with the whole Rhode Island thing…"

"Oh!" she sat up straight, pointing her finger accusingly at him. "You wanna take Taylor somewhere!"

"Ok, I was hoping for a less spastic response," he muttered, looking around like Seth was hiding somewhere.

"Sorry," she calmed down immediately, not wanting to freak him out too much. "But Ryan, that's great." He gave a noncommittal shrug, and she sighed. "No, really. Taylor'll be so relieved."

"What?" She looked up at him, eyes going wide as she realized her mistake. "What d'you mean?"

"Well…" Crap. There really was no explanation for her comment. It was obvious that Taylor had been doubting the relationship, and now she could see him panicking. "Ok. Here's the deal. Now that school's done, she has to go back home."

"Yeah…?" The guy didn't get it, and she rolled her eyes.

"Ryan, how long did it take when the Cohens moved to Berkeley?"

"What? Summer, what does that have to do with anything?" He shook his head at her, and she sighed.

"Just answer the question."

"Like… a long time. Weeks."

"And why was that?"

"Because Sandy and Kirsten had a lot of stuff, and Newport's really far, and we had to – oh."

"Yeah."

"That's right, I keep forgetting her mom lives in Newport." Summer noticed that he wasn't really talking to her anymore – not from the way he gazed at the wall to her left, and the way his eyes unfocused. And the way he crossed his arms, getting all broody.

"She may have panicked a little, because it's a seven hour drive, and airplane tickets aren't cheap…"

"And that's why you came over here? Why you asked me about working? Cause she thinks I won't have time for her if I work." Summer pressed her lips together, but didn't say anything, and Ryan sighed, leaning forward on his elbows and putting his head in his hands. "She thinks I'm gonna find someone else, doesn't she?"

"…maybe…"

"Fantastic."

"Ok, I promised her I wouldn't do this, but the cat's out of the bag now, so I might as well go all in."

"I think you're mixing up metaphors there," he muttered, but took his head out of his hands to look at her. She ignored him, and continued on.

"Now remember, this is _my_ idea, not _hers_, so don't go freaking out, ok?" She waited for him to nod before going on. "I was thinking you could invite her to stay at the Cohen's for the summer… you know, like I do."

"Summer…" he sat back, and she'd known him long enough to read his face.

"You were planning a trip for two, but _this_ freaks you out?"

"I was planning a _tentative_ trip for two, at the _end of the summer_." He stood up suddenly, beginning to pace. "I was gonna use this summer to make sure I _wanted_ to take her."

"You were gonna take her when you'd only been dating for a month!" She stood up too, throwing up her hands.

"I wasn't thinking straight then!"

She froze, eyes going wide and mouth dropping open. "_You were gonna take her because you hadn't gotten laid yet?_" she hissed. This wasn't good. She could feel the rage building… her vision was going blurry… blood pounding in her ears…

"Ok, when you say it like that, it sounds horrible," he protested, but he stopped his pacing and looked ashamed of himself.

"No matter how you slice it, you sound horrible, _Atwood_."

He sighed loudly, dropping to sit on his bed, and he put his head in his hands again. "It's not like I don't like her – I do." She calmed down enough to read his silent addition: '_a lot'_. "And I hadn't thought the trip thing through during spring break, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I've had time to think now, and I'm not sure I'm ready for something that big." He looked so pitiful sitting there, all her anger drained, replaced by weariness.

"I miss her, too, Ryan." She sat on his roommate's bed, facing him. He raised his head, shaking it slightly after a second.

"This isn't about Marissa." She raised an eyebrow, and he shifted uncomfortably. "I'm… I'm ok with Marissa. I think I've… moved on? Is that what you call it?" She didn't say anything, just let him talk. "But I'm not good with relationships. You've seen me. I always ruin it. And I can't seem to do anything right. Either I go too slow, and she leaves," –_ Lindsay_ – "or I go too fast, and she leaves," – _Sadie – "_or I do whatever she wants," – _Marissa – _"but it's never the right thing. I just…" – _I don't want to screw this up. _

He seemed to be done talking, and Summer let silence fall over the room. She definitely knew him well enough to read between the lines, and he was right. Relationships were _not_ his strong point. But there was no way she was letting his paranoia ruin things with Taylor, because she needed _one_ friend who knew fashion. _One_ friend who wasn't so engrossed in saving animals, that they forgot about humans in the process.

"Ok." He looked startled when she started talking again. "You have one of two options: you invite her to stay in Berkeley, she's happy, which – I'm assuming – will make _you_ happy, you get your summer job, you save up money, you realize you _want_ to take her on a trip, you go, she makes you _very_ happy on said trip, especially because – knowing you – it'll be somewhere with a beach, you live happily ever after. _Or_ you let her go back to Newport, you only see her occasionally, you get your summer job, you save up money, you decide _not_ to take her on the trip, you don't get to see her in a bikini, you get back to school in the fall, things are weird, maybe she meets a new guy in one of her psych classes, maybe he notices she seems a little sad, maybe he takes advantage of that, maybe-"

"Summer." She stopped, crossing her arms, satisfied that she'd gotten through to him. Even if her method was a little over-dramatic. And she was relieved when he quirked a smile. "I got it."

"Good. Now, don't screw it up, Atwood."

_

* * *

_

Ok, I decided to stop there because not only was the chapter getting kind of long, but it kind of seemed like it was going in a depressing direction.

_Anyway, review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Ok, so I meant to post this in time for Father's Day, but it got a little delayed, what with the sequel to Vegas going up. So here it is – pretend like Father's Day isn't over._

_Oh, and sorry if it seems to get a little angsty. I promise it won't get too bad._

_Music in my head: I turn my camera on, I cut my fingers on the way (the way you're slipping away)_

* * *

"So what're we doing for Father's Day?"

Taylor looked down at the back of Seth's head. He and Ryan were on the floor, playing video games, while she and Summer sat on the couch behind them. She saw Ryan's shoulders lift in a shrug and Seth let out a big sigh.

"Cause I guess we should do something, right?"

"You mean you wanna know what _I'm_ doing, so you can jump on the plans and go in half, even though you did none of the work." Taylor giggled at his monotone sarcasm – she wasn't sure why no one else seemed to think he was funny, because he _so _was. Next to him, Seth started protesting – unsuccessfully – until Summer hit him on the back of the head. "Look, I dunno what I'm doing. I don't even know _who_ I'm doing it with." He sounded so lost, so she put her magazine down and leant forward, running her hands over his shoulders. He started to relax a bit, even though his muscles were still tense under her fingers.

"But last year you spent the day with Sandy," Summer cut in, giving Taylor a weird look even though she was talking to Ryan.

"Yeah, because my dad was too busy with Matthew to worry about Father's Day. But this year he calls up and wants to go out to dinner or something with me."

"Sandy will understand," Taylor made her voice low and soothing, trying to get him to relax more. He always got way too tense when he was doing his guilt thing.

"Yeah." She caught his silent addition: he'll understand, but there's a difference between _understanding_ and _being a father_. Sandy would _technically_ understand why Ryan would go out with his biological father, but as his _adoptive_ father, he wouldn't understand.

"Well, why don't the four of you go out to dinner?" she suggested. "You, Seth, Sandy and Frank. That way, you don't really have to choose. Or, Frank will _think_ you're choosing him, but Sandy will _know_ you're really choosing _him_."

"You sure that's a good idea?" Seth cut in, looking a little worried. He knew about his father's dislike for Frank – even if it had more to do with jealousy than anything else. "I heard about Frank's first dinner with the family…" he trailed off. Taylor had heard about it, too. Seth and Summer had been in Rhode Island at the time, and Frank had come to Newport and had dinner with the Cohens while Ryan was visiting for the weekend. Apparently it had ended with a fistfight.

"I doubt Sandy'll hit him again," Ryan offered, looking a little unsure.

"Oh!" Seth turned quickly to look at his girlfriend, "you can invite Dr. Roberts down for the weekend and you guys can come! And Taylor, you and your dad can come too. That way, there'll be more people to take out the awkwardness."

Summer shrugged, "if you're sure you can handle my dad…"

"Oh, we bonded."

"Fine. I'll call him right now," she got up, tugging her cell phone out of her purse and leaving the room.

"Taylor? You gonna come?" Seth turned to look at her and she started to panic.

"Yeah, sure. I'll just go call my dad, too." She followed Summer's lead, taking her cell phone out of the room. Summer was in the atrium, so she went into the living room to make her 'call'. She pretended to dial, and held the phone up to her ear, in case anyone looked in.

She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Yes, she'd told Ryan that her parents were divorced, but she hadn't told him that her father was a complete jackass, who refused to even acknowledge her. After he'd remarried and had his first kid, he'd told her – when she was only seven years old – that she wasn't his _little girl_ anymore. He had a new little girl, and he didn't want his _new_ little girl to get confused as to why there was an _old_ little girl. Taylor – he'd said – didn't need to come visit anymore.

She knew she should just tell Ryan – and Seth and Summer – the truth, but she couldn't. She didn't want their pity. She didn't want Ryan to know her own father rejected her.

* * *

"So?" Ryan looked up at his girlfriend when she came back into the room.

He'd been nervous as hell when he'd asked her to stay for the summer. The Berkeley house looked small on the outside, but that was only compared to their Newport house. Inside, they still had the master bedroom, and three guest rooms. One was his permanent guest room, one was Seth's, and the other was given to Summer when she stayed. But he'd asked Sandy and Kirsten, and they'd wholeheartedly agreed to let Taylor and Summer room together. He and Seth didn't bother telling the Cohens that the third guestroom was basically unoccupied at night, because Summer went to sleep with Seth, and Taylor came to his room.

"My dad's coming," Summer sat on the couch again, looking really happy. He knew she didn't get to see her dad a lot, now that he was in Seattle. Taylor followed her in seconds later, looking slightly nervous, but she had a smile on her face.

"So is mine."

He nodded, but suddenly he was nervous. He'd met her mother – that god-awful bitch – but he hadn't met her father yet. She didn't talk about him much, so he guessed he didn't have to worry about him being really overprotective of his little girl or anything like that. But usually dads were harder to deal with – probably because they knew how a twenty-year-old guy's mind worked. Dads _knew_. So he wasn't really looking forward to meeting the guy who would give him the _I know you're corrupting my daughter nightly_ look.

Maybe that's why she looked nervous and a little pale? She was worried about how her father would react.

* * *

She wasn't _quite_ sure why she'd said her dad was coming.

She hadn't been planning on it. She'd planned on saying something like _he has to work all weekend_, but the minute she'd looked at Ryan – not to mention Seth with his big puppy dog eyes, just hoping for more people – that plan had gone to hell.

That's when the lying started. _Yeah, my dad's coming._ _He's flying in from San Diego on Sunday morning. He can't wait to meet you all. I'm not even remotely making this up._

Lying was a sin, right? Yeah, she was going straight to hell.

* * *

"Where's Taylor?"

Summer glanced over at Ryan, who was standing nervously on the curb between Frank and Sandy. She wasn't sure if he was more nervous over where Taylor was, the idea of meeting her father, or the fact that he had two dads to entertain tonight. Probably a combination of all three.

"She said she'd meet us here," Seth answered, shifting uncomfortably. He was standing between Sandy and her dad. Yeah, tonight was going _splendidly_. She wished Taylor was here. That girl could always fill uncomfortable silences.

Her dad's plane from San Diego had been delayed, so he was only going to get in about an hour before their dinner reservation. Taylor had told them all to go ahead – she'd pick up her father and join them as soon as she could. She should've been here by now.

"Hey," she turned to face the group of men – good God, she needed Taylor here for some more estrogen – "why don't you guys go in and I'll call Taylor and see where she is?" She ignored the panic in Seth's eyes as they all went in, and she pulled out her cell phone, hitting speed dial 3. There was no answer – which could logically be explained by Taylor and her dad being too busy catching up and trying to get to the restaurant – but Summer just had this _feeling_. She huffed in annoyance and went to find her car.

* * *

Taylor sat in her room – well, technically her and Summer's room – but she didn't know what to do. She'd 'left for the airport' and drove around for a while, then came back to the house after Ryan, Sandy, Seth and Frank left for the restaurant, and Kirsten and Sophie left to go visit Julie and Matthew.

She wasn't sure what the hell she'd been thinking – telling everyone her dad was coming. Really, what had she been thinking? She'd told them her dad's plane had been delayed, but that was just to delay the inevitable realization that her dad wasn't coming at all. Maybe she could say the plane crashed, or something?

Yeah, like that wasn't a horrible thing to say. She was really giving God reasons to put her on the 'going to hell' list.

Summer had called about fifteen minutes ago, but she didn't have the heart to answer. So she'd let it go to voicemail. Now what was she supposed to do? She picked up her phone, and dialed the number she knew by heart – even if she had no reason to know it.

He picked up on the third ring, voice filled with laughter. "Hello?"

"Hi." Her throat felt tight, and her heart beat wildly in the pause.

"Who is this?"

"Taylor?" She wasn't sure why she made it a question…

"Taylor…?" he was waiting for a last name. He couldn't even make the connection between the name Taylor, and the daughter he'd basically abandoned. To be fair, it had been nearly thirteen years since they'd last talked, but she liked to pretend like he still thought about her.

"Nevermind," she shook her head. "Happy Father's Day."

She hung up and dropped her phone to the side.

"Did your dad miss his plane?" Summer was standing in the doorway, arms folded, looking like she was unsure whether she should be angry or sympathetic.

"No." Anger started to take over her friend's face, eyes narrowing a little. "There was never a plane."

"Ok," she came into the room and sat on the bed. "I feel like I walked into a movie halfway through. Wanna start from the beginning?"

"The beginning of the lies?" Taylor slumped back in her seat, defeated, "or the beginning of the father story in general?"

"Why don't we start with the father story in general, while we head to the restaurant?" She stood back up, grabbing Taylor's hand and hauling her up, ignoring her protests. "Come on. If I leave Seth there with my dad – with Ryan being Mr. Sociable like he always is – someone may end up getting killed. Now, start talking."

* * *

This was hell, Seth decided. He _may_ have overestimated the amount of 'bonding' he and Dr. Roberts did that first semester when Summer'd been off in Rhode Island, and he'd been stuck in Newport. His dad was trying to be talkative, and Frank was too, but they were both talking at _Ryan_, who was being _so_ unhelpful. It was like watching a game of tug-of-war – Sandy would say something to Ryan, then Frank would say something, and Ryan would sit there, unsure which one he should respond to first. It was painful to watch.

Almost as painful as the steely remarks Dr. Roberts was making about the state of his and Summer's relationship. Did he appreciate her? Did he really love her? Was he letting her party too much at Brown? Was he making sure she didn't fall in with the wrong crowd? Dear Moses, he'd forgotten how protective Dr. Roberts was.

"Taylor." Everyone stopped talking at Ryan's outburst – his first word since Summer'd left nearly fourty-five minutes ago. "What's wrong?"

Seth turned to watch his girlfriend and Taylor approach the table – Taylor with red eyes and nose, like she'd been crying. "Where's your dad?" That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because Summer glared – which made Dr. Roberts glare – and Taylor's eyes started to well up again.

"Taylor, why don't you go wash up, ok?" Summer's voice was soothing as she directed Taylor towards the bathroom. When the other girl was out of sight, Summer turned with a heavy sigh and sat – thankfully – between him and Dr. Roberts.

"Summer, what's going on?" Sandy cut in, looking over his shoulder toward the bathrooms, where Taylor'd disappeared to. "Is she ok? Is her dad ok?" It actually kind of funny, how attached his dad had become to his assistant. He really had a thing for taking in wounded kids and making them part of the family. Speaking of, Ryan was looking just as worried.

"Yeah, her dad's fine," Summer closed her eyes. She had her headache look on, so he reached out and took her hand, running his thumb over the back of her hand. That always made her relax. "Or, at least I'm assuming he's fine." Which got weird looks from everyone, so she continued. "Apparently, Taylor's dad is a complete dick who abandoned her when she was seven. She hasn't spoken to him in thirteen years."

There was confused silence for a few seconds, before Ryan seemed to gather up the courage to talk. "Then why'd she say…"

"That he was coming? Because she's insane." To which everyone started to look less confused, because it was kind of true. "She didn't want everyone to know that her dad doesn't acknowledge her existence. I think she's embarrassed. She told me that you caught her off guard when you asked her and her dad to come tonight, and she panicked, and started lying. A lot."

"So that whole thing," Seth started, "was just a bunch of lies?"

"Yeah, kind of. She said that once she told us he was coming, she couldn't stop. I found her at the house, sitting in the dark. She tried to call her dad." He watched his girlfriends face drop, looking depressed. "She said he asked her 'Taylor who?'"

Cue Ryan's anger? Oh yeah. He watched his brother tense up, hand tightening around his water glass, and… Holy Moses and Jesus, even his dad was looking like he was about to start another father-on-father smackdown.

He was about to say something – to break the tension, you know? – but Taylor chose that moment to reappear. She stood awkwardly, picking at her nails and not looking at anyone. There was a few moments of silence before Sandy stood and moved over a seat, leaving his next to Ryan open. Seth thought she was going to cry again, but she sat down instead, staring intently at the tabletop.

"Sorry," she whispered, and Seth decided she could give Ryan a run for his money in the guilt department. She looked like she thought she was a horrible person, like she was… going to hell or something. There was a movement under the table and Taylor shot Ryan a grateful look, and Seth assumed it was because he had taken her hand or something. He was so hooked, even if he wouldn't admit it.

"Well, it wouldn't be a holiday around here if there weren't _some_ form of emotional pain and family drama," he joked, getting glares from nearly everyone at the table except Taylor and – surprisingly – Dr. Roberts.

Sandy shook his head – ignoring his son's comment – and turned to Taylor. "Well, in the spirit of the holiday, how about I act as your father today?" he offered, getting a watery smile in return. Way to go, dad. Make the girl cry again. She nodded, wiping at her eyes, and his dad smiled.

"Wait," Ryan cut in, eyebrows furrowing. "That would make her my sister, which… ew."

"Wouldn't be the first time you got freaky with a relative," Seth muttered lowly. Ryan shot him a glare – he didn't need to go over the arguments again, though. He'd tried to justify the Lindsay relationship multiple times – and even his relationship with Marissa, cause that girl was technically his aunt, too.

"Then I'll take on the honor," Dr. Roberts leaned forward, earning a giant smile from his daughter, and a shaky one from Taylor. "That doesn't violate any familial ties, right?"

"Nope," he cut in enthusiastically, "we're incest-free now."

This time, even Taylor and Dr. Roberts joined in the table-wide glare.

* * *

"I wish you would've told me," Ryan murmured into her shoulder.

"I didn't want you to feel bad for me," she protested, trying to turn around in his arms. He let her roll over until she was facing him, pouting. "I wasn't _planning_ on lying. It just… came out. And then once I started, I couldn't stop, and it was just lie after lie after lie, and I kept telling myself to just end the madness, but I couldn't, Ryan, it was like a train-wreck, I just couldn't look away from the horrible-"

He leaned forward and kissed her – which had the mutual benefit of shutting her up and letting her know he wasn't really angry. He knew what it was like to be ashamed of your past. To not want people to pity you.

Plus, at least now he didn't have to try and explain his feelings to an overbearing father, and lie to the man about the fact that he did bad things to his daughter. Very, very bad things. Like page 42. Speaking of…

"You know," he whispered against her lips, "we never _did_ try page 117…" She giggled, pulling away and shaking her head. It was slightly annoying that she refused to have sex with him while his parents were in the house. Although, she _was_ quite vocal, so maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.

He just needed to get the Cohens out of the house.

_

* * *

_

Review!


	12. Chapter 12

_Omgwtf?_

_Am I really updating this? I think I am. Wait… yeah, I'm really updating this. Shocking, I know._

_To be honest, I'd like to say that I just didn't have the time to write this before, but that's a lie. Truthfully, I pretty much forgot about Bloom, probably because of the no-drama thing. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore this fic and I think it's one of my favorites to write when I actually get the inspiration, but it's just hard to think up non-dramatic plots._

_Take this chapter for example. I had a really, really hard time not going into some big dramatic spiral of doom. Hopefully I successfully kept it out of depress-o land. _

_So I really hope you all enjoy this, because I'm nervous as hell._

* * *

"I think I could stay here forever," she murmured, lifting her arms above her head and stretching, letting the hot sun relax her muscles.

"Yeah, it's not too bad," Ryan agreed with her and she smiled without opening her eyes.

This trip had come as a huge surprise – she literally hadn't seen it coming _at all_. They'd just registered for the fall semester's classes and she'd been moping that they only had a month and a half left of summer when he'd sprung it on her: a trip. Just them, a nice hotel room, and the beach for a week.

It was the second day into their trip and she already felt more relaxed than she had in _ages_. She knew she was crazy – monumentally – but she hadn't realized how _tense_ her crazy made her. Constant panicking really tightened up the shoulder muscles and the sun and the ocean breeze was definitely the solution.

She finally opened her eyes under her giant white sunglasses and looked over at her boyfriend as he sat on the blanket and stared out at the ocean. "Thanks for this," she sat up and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek. He turned quickly enough to catch her lips with his and she giggled, pulling away. He sighed in annoyance. "Not in public, Ryan," she reminded him.

Yesterday, when they'd gotten here, he'd gotten a little too handsy on the beach and she told him that there would be none of _that_, because there were families here.

"Well, if you don't want me molesting you in public, you shouldn't wear that," he grumbled, eyes flicking over her white bathing suit.

She giggled and laid back down on the blanket, wriggling a little to get comfortable – and, of course, to make him more uncomfortable. "You don't like it?" she pouted, running her hands over the white material, over her exposed stomach, and down to the bikini bottom. Her progress stopped at the waistband and she ran her fingers back and forth over it slowly. "I picked it out especially for you…"

"You're evil," he muttered, tearing his eyes off her fingers – still playing with the material – to stare back out at the ocean.

"You love me," she teased, smiling smugly.

That was – of course – until he turned his head to her sharply, panic flicking behind his eyes.

Well crap, way to scare him, Taylor, she scolded herself. He hadn't said it yet, and neither had she – even though she did. She was a big enough person to admit that she was totally and completely in love with him. Head over heels, out of her mind, _desperately_ in love with him.

She was just _really_ good at hiding it.

She hoped.

* * *

He had to admit, this vacation was going better than he thought it would.

Seriously, he hadn't been too sure of it the week before they came, but it was growing on him. The ocean, the beach, the sun… Taylor in that bikini… it was all _very_ nice and he hadn't been this relaxed in a while.

Well, not _completely_ relaxed, because Taylor was lying next to him in all her glory – half naked, skin shining with a thin sheen of sweat from sunbathing. Her legs were parted slightly, just begging for his hand to slide…

No. He was supposed to be _relaxing_.

But he wasn't good at relaxing. Not having school or work or drama to worry about was slightly unnerving. He'd never really been drama-free in his entire life, and this whole Taylor experience was weird. She _should_ be more dramatic, his head tried to reason. She had all the makings for it: from Newport, easily upset, completely fucking insane. For all intents and purposes, she _should_ be a non-stop drama machine, but she wasn't.

It was unnerving.

He wasn't used to being strings-free happy.

Well, maybe not completely strings-free, because her little 'you love me' comment had thrown him for a second, but he'd controlled it. It was just an expression, it didn't mean anything.

Because, as much as he _liked_ Taylor, he was pretty sure he didn't love her. Which was actually kind of annoying. He _wished_ he loved her. It would make things so much easier. And he wasn't quite sure why he didn't. She made him laugh, she was hot, smart, a complete freak in bed, she constantly had him smiling. He was happier with her than he'd ever been with Marissa.

But the thing was, he'd loved Marissa but he didn't love Taylor.

It was kind of annoying.

Maybe he should talk to Seth? Not Summer – she was _way_ too protective of his girlfriend. She'd probably end up filleting him or something. Yeah, he'd talk to Seth about this. It's not like he didn't have the opportunity.

Since Seth had pretty much hijacked his vacation plans and all.

* * *

Sure enough, Seth was in the living room when he got back to the house they'd rented. He'd been _planning_ on just renting a hotel room for the week, but with Seth and Summer coming along, they'd just gone all in and gotten a little house about three blocks from the beach.

"Hey buddy," Seth called from the couch, giving him that _smile_, begging for forgiveness. Ryan hadn't been too happy when Seth had jumped all over the beach plans, and his brother knew that. "What's up?"

He sighed and sat on the couch, preparing himself for a little Seth/Ryan time.

* * *

She went into his room in some kind of daze – a trance, with a definite purpose. She knew what she had to do and it had to be now. Not for any particular reason other than it felt right and if she let it go any longer, she'd drive herself crazy.

Well, crazier.

"Hey," Ryan glanced up from his book as she came into their bedroom and he sat up. He looked better than he had on the beach – he'd been kind of tense, but then he'd gone to talk to Seth and now he seemed more relaxed.

Relaxed was good. Especially for her mission.

"Hey," she sighed dreamily, getting on the bed and leaning forward to kiss him. He kissed back, sliding a hand into her hair as he started to lay back on the bed – obviously intent on pulling her on top of him. She broke off – she had a mission. "Before we have sex, I have something to say."

"Alright," he grinned at her and propped himself up on his elbows, waiting. She took a deep breath, because it was now or never.

"I love you, Ryan."

She sighed at the almost instantaneous weight that was lifted off her shoulders. She'd been holding that in for about a month now – it'd been crushing her. She usually said whatever thought came into her mind the instant it did, but this she'd been holding back because she didn't want to freak him out. But it had become too much, she had to tell him, no matter the consequences.

"Taylor, what?" he sat up fully, blood draining from his face.

"I love you," she shrugged, blinking slowly at him and waiting for him to digest it.

"Taylor…" he swallowed hard, eyes flicking over the room like he was trying to find some escape route. She sighed.

"It's ok, Ryan," she smiled. "You don't have to say it back. I just thought you should know."

"Are you sure?" he didn't look any happier about the situation, despite the lack of pressure she was putting him under. "I mean… maybe it's just heartburn or something? We've been eating a lot of fried food lately…"

"It's not heartburn," she giggled, the action making her slightly dizzy. Hell, it wasn't the action making her dizzy, it was the lightness. The relief of saying it, finally. She knew where she stood with him, she knew how she felt and she'd told him. The ball was in his court, she'd done all she could. And now she could just enjoy her time with Ryan without worrying about whether she'd accidentally say it or wondering whether she _should_.

It was out there and was lightheaded with the idea of it.

She shifted to lean over him and lowered her head to his, kissing him. They could have sex now that she'd said her piece and she was quite looking forward to it. If telling him she loved him made her this giddy, what would having sex with him be like now that she acknowledged it?

"Taylor, whoa," he pushed her off and sat up completely, shifting away from her.

"What's wrong?" she tilted her head to the side, moving forward to try and get to him. She really wanted to have sex with him right now…

"_What's wrong_?" his voice rose a little in panic. "Taylor… you just said…"

"That I love you?" she finished for him, rolling her eyes when he went dead white. "But I do. Now let's have sex."

"We can't," he got off the bed, rubbing his hands over his face and she frowned at him in disappointment.

"Why?"

"Because," he muttered, beginning to pace. "You just said…"

"That I love you."

"Stop," he stopped pacing and turned to look at her in panic. "Stop saying it."

"Why? It's true."

"Taylor, I really like you," he started, voice low and slightly ashamed. "I do. I like you a lot and I love hanging out with you and I love… you know, doing stuff with you, but…"

"You don't love me," she shrugged. She wasn't sure what his problem was – she already knew he didn't. Especially from his reaction on the beach, that had definitely sealed it. "I don't care."

"You don't care," he asked, voice dipping a little in confusion.

"No. I wish you did, it would be really nice, but it doesn't change anything. I love you, Ryan Atwood. Now, I was thinking, since Seth and Summer are out and we're all alone in this big house, we could try page 117."

She reached forward and grabbed the front of his t-shirt with both hands and pulled him toward her. He groaned slightly in protest but let her pull him down on the bed.

* * *

Oh, he was a bad, bad person. He shouldn't have done that with her.

He shouldn't have done that _to_ her.

Alright, so page 117 was damn near earthshaking – he'd actually blacked out for a few seconds there – but was it worth it? Right now she was curled up next to him, naked, with the white sheets twisted around her body and a satisfied smile on her face.

The smile didn't help his guilt though.

She'd said she _loved_ him. She loved him. She hadn't said it once, either. It wasn't a fluke. She'd said she loved him and he hadn't said it back because… because he didn't love her. It wasn't like he wasn't trying, though – he was. Right now he was staring down at her as she slept – _willing_ himself to fall in love with her.

Because even though she said it was ok that he didn't love her – what kind of girl was ok with that? – he still felt guilty. And not just because he hadn't said it back, but because he'd done… _that_ to her right after. Ok, so she'd started it, it was totally her idea, but he hadn't put up much of a fight. He was just as eager a participant in it, as she'd gotten on her hands and knees and…

And now she was asleep, smiling because she was _in love_ with him.

How could she be ok with him not saying it back? He remembered back when he and Marissa had first started off – when the same thing had happened. She said it first, and he'd said – wait for it – _thank you_. Marissa had been so hurt, even though she'd hid it. She'd been hurt and upset that he hadn't automatically said it back – even though he did a little bit later, feeling the pressure.

He hadn't loved Marissa when he first said he did. He'd said it purely so she would stop looking at him like she was waiting for it. That's not to say he didn't fall for her after that – he'd definitely loved her, there was no denying it. But he wasn't in high school anymore and he wouldn't say it to Taylor just so he'd stop feeling so damn guilty.

He'd briefly flirted with the idea of breaking up with her – to cut her loose before she got any deeper – but quickly got rid of that. He was happy with her and she apparently loved him, so it would do more damage to both of them than good.

And he'd kind of hoped that she'd drop it and never bring it up again – never say it again. They could forget it and just continue on like they had been before. But that had been thrown out, too. Because after they'd both collapsed onto the bed – exhausted and shaking – she'd said it again right before she fell asleep.

No. He'd have to live with it in their relationship now. He had a feeling that she was going to say it whenever she damn well pleased now that she'd put it out there and he'd just have to find out a better reaction than white-faced panic.

Well, at least this time he knew not to say _thank you_.

* * *

She opened her eyes to bright sunlight and smiled.

The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and she was in love. It was really a nice day.

"Hey," he said quietly as she turned to look at him. Poor boy, he looked so scared. She wished there was a way to make him feel better about this, but she'd already told him not to worry about it. Right now, she was just content with the fact that he obviously liked her enough to stay with her, even though she was crazy and had already told him she loved him.

"Hey," she smiled back at him, getting a frown in return. "I'm hungry, wanna go get some funnel cake?"

"Funnel cake?" he propped his head up on his hand and raised his eyebrows at her.

"You know," she grinned, sitting up with a slight groan. "Fried food? Maybe it'll give me more heartburn."

He looked like he was about to be sick for a second, but she giggled, getting out of the bed and looking around for her clothes.

"There's no chance you'll just… stop saying it, right?" he said finally, getting up with a sigh.

She shook her head, shooting him a smile as she picked up her bikini top. "Nope. I love you Ryan, and there's nothing you can do about it."

"I'm not gonna say it back," he grumbled sullenly and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm not expecting you to. Now, funnel cake?"

"Fine."

* * *

He watched her tear apart the fried dough, trying not to get powdered sugar everywhere. Watching her eat was like watching a child try to eat, and he smiled slightly as she coughed slightly after inhaling the white topping.

He should love her.

And not just out of obligation or anything. He _should_ love her because he _wanted_ to. She was just about perfect for him and he wanted so badly to be able to take her hand and tell her he loved her and make her smile. It shouldn't be this hard to do it. She was smart and funny and she made him laugh and she turned him on.

Maybe he should see a shrink or something. Maybe he had a problem – only falling in love when it wasn't healthy for him.

She sneezed, sending white powder everywhere and he laughed slightly as she tried to brush it off her clothes and the table, face scrunched up in concentration. She looked so innocent right now – he'd almost believe she _was_ innocent, if he hadn't just been doing horrible, horrible things to her not fourty minutes ago.

"You're staring at me," she observed, pouting. "Do I have powdered sugar on me?"

"Umm… yeah," he smiled wider this time as she tried to rub powdered sugar off her mouth. He leaned forward and wiped the stuff off her nose and forehead, too.

"Thanks," she grinned. "I love you."

"Stop."

"Nope."

He sighed in annoyance, but noticed that it didn't really bother him. Not like it had at first. When she said it this time, there was only mild panic and no guilt. He was getting better, which was a good sign.

"Why don't we go back to the house?" he suggested, waving his hands at her outfit, specked with sugar.

"Alright," she stood and threw her now-empty plate away, trying to brush herself off. "But I think I'll be taking a shower alone this time," she quirked an eyebrow at him. "After page 117, I think I'll be sore for a while…" He grinned as she threw him a cheerful, deceivingly innocent, smile before turning and skipping off toward their house. He sighed and followed her, resolve settling in his chest.

He was going to see a shrink the minute they were back in Berkeley.

_

* * *

_

review


	13. Chapter 13

_Holy crap, am I actually updating this? I think I am. Shocking. Although I guess not too shocking, because I do have schoolwork to do - which, of course, means I'm doing this instead because I'm a horrible, horrible student._

_Oh, and I hope the black pit of angst that is The Fallen hasn't creeped into this fic. I tried to keep it light, like normal, so I hope it works!_

_Enjoy!_

_Music: isn't it amazing in here? I wanna know what you're about_

* * *

"A party?" Summer's voice strained through the phone. "You don't do well at parties."

"I know," Taylor sighed, poking her fork into her salad. "But I don't have any friends here, and Ryan spends all his free time like, _babysitting_ me. I just want him to have a life again."

"Ryan?" her friend snorted and she could _see_ Summer rolling her eyes. "Ryan never _had_ a life. In high school, he used to hole up in his room to read. Seth, Marissa and I practically had to drag him everywhere." Taylor giggled, leaning back in her chair and scanning her eyes across the cafeteria.

"But seriously, I don't know what's gotten into him lately. I feel like he feels guilty for something, so he's always making sure I'm ok."

"Why would he feel guilty?" Summer asked loudly, trying to talk over the Brown campus noise behind her. "And since when is him fawning over you a bad thing?"

Taylor sighed and closed her eyes, before opening them again. "Because, Summer. He's _always_ around."

* * *

She hated parties.

Well, to be honest, she'd only ever been to one – the one Ryan had taken her to last year. That one had been a disaster, and while she didn't picture inappropriate vomiting this time, she definitely wasn't having fun. She could tell Ryan wasn't, either.

He was too busy _glaring_ at everyone who even looked at her.

"You need another drink?" His voice startled her out of her stupor – she'd been staring dazedly through the room at all the dancing college kids.

"Not since the last time you asked," she shot back with a sigh. "Look, can we get out of here?"

"God, yes."

He practically grabbed her arm and hauled her out of the frat house, pushing through the crowd of people with ease. When they were outside, he slowed his pace – kind of – and headed off in the direction of his apartment. He and two of his friends had gotten an apartment on campus and she spent almost every night over there – completely negating the whole purpose of her own dorm.

"Hey," she tugged her arm free gently, stopping them in the middle of the sidewalk. "I think I'm just gonna head back to my dorm tonight."

"Oh."

"It's just... I'm tired."

"Right, yeah." His hand went to the back of his neck and he shrugged. "I'll walk you back."

"It's ok, I'll just walk myself. It's out of your way."

"You could get mugged."

She sighed, the energy draining out of her. "Fine, you can walk me."

* * *

"Oh, Taylor, do _not_ make me fly back to California to kick your ass. I _just_ left."

"Hello to you, too, Summer," she rolled her eyes and sat down at her desk. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Apparently Seth just got off the phone with a _very_ untalkative Ryan."

"Ryan's _always_ untalkative."

"Not the point, Townsend."

"Using last names now?"

"Alright, let's drop the cutesy backtalk," Summer raged. "I left you two, perfectly happy, and a month later he's telling Seth he thinks you're gonna break up with him."

"What?" That caught her interest, and she snapped to attention. "I never said that."

"Yeah, well, Ryan's always been really good at jumping the gun on ending relationships, so I suggest you go _talk_ to him before you end up as just another point on his scorecard of angst."

* * *

He rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up as he followed the smell of coffee into the common area. He'd lived in the dorms for the past two years and he'd lived in a pool house for four, and he'd lived in the Berkeley house for two summers, but nothing had prepared him for an apartment.

He didn't have his parents to rely on to buy food; he didn't have a meal card. He had to rely on himself – and his useless roommates – to keep the kitchen stocked.

So far, they'd been living off Spaghettios and frozen pizza for the past month.

He used to try and keep up on it more, for Taylor's sake, at least. In the beginning of the year, she would stand in their kitchen and open every cabinet and let out a heavy sigh when she found nothing of proper nutritional value. It was annoying but effective – he and his roommates went out and bought food just to shut her up. But she'd stopped coming around as often, spending more nights in her dorm than here, so they'd let it go.

"Dude, you look like you just got hit by a truck," Jake grinned at him – always incessantly perky in the mornings. Ryan gave him a glare – his standard _good morning _– and accepted the offered cup of coffee. "Taylor here?" Jake's hand held the pot of coffee over another mug, but Ryan shook his head. "Oh."

Yeah.

_Oh_.

* * *

"What is this, an intervention?"

Jake and Ian stood in front of the door, blocking his only exit.

"Pretty much, yeah," Jake started, trying – and failing – to look serious.

"Dude, you've been seriously brooding lately," Ian took over, sounding just as deceptively bored and condescending as he always did.

"I'm not… wait, 'brooding?'" He looked from one roommate to the other, narrowing his eyes. "Where'd you get 'brooding' from?"

"Busted," Jake sing-songed, looking up to the ceiling like that would make it go away.

"Your brother called while you were in class and he and Jake started talking."

"Crap."

"Yeah, pretty much, you know how Jake gets. Doesn't change the fact that you've been moping in your room cause Taylor's not banging you every night. So we're taking you out; getting your mind off it."

Ryan sighed and ran his hand over his face – leave it to Seth and Jake to start talking about the state of his mental health. And Ian – despite his apparent distaste for all of humanity – didn't let go of an idea once it was in his head.

"So, it's up to you what we do tonight."

"I don't care."

"Bullshit," Ian shot back. "You always go along with whatever we do, so what do you and your brother do when you hang out?"

"Um… we watch his anime and play videogames," Ryan shrugged.

"Can we order pizza? Oh, and Cheetos, we have to have Cheetos," Jake grinned.

Ian shut his eyes and raised his eyebrows, taking a deep breath. "God," he breathed, "of all the people I go and make friends with, it has to be the two whitest guys on campus."

"I swear, I used to be cooler," Ryan offered, shrugging. "I'm not sure _when_ I used to be cooler, but I know I was at some point."

Ian opened his mouth to say something, but a loud, precise knock on the door interrupted them. Jake's eyebrows shot up before he turned to open it – they all knew whose knock that was.

"Ryan."

Taylor swept past his roommates and into the apartment without invitation.

"Taylor," he monotoned back, not quite sure what was going on. She hadn't been coming around the apartment uninvited lately, so this was… a surprise.

"I'm not breaking up with you," she stopped in front of him, tilting her head to the side and staring at him.

"Um… good to know?" His eyes flicked up to his roommates, and behind her back, Jake shrugged.

"Hey, Taylor," Ian drawled, "we were gonna go out, you know, guy's night?" She turned to look at him and nodded. There was a pause, before he spoke again. "Implying no girls allowed."

"Good," she nodded in satisfaction, like this was her plan going accordingly. "But before you go, can I have a word with Ryan, please?"

"It's cool, guys," Ryan smiled, ducking his head, as Ian and Jake gave Taylor warning looks before they went to Ian's room. They'd probably spy, but it was cool. Taylor usually told them everything, anyway. "So what's up?"

Taylor sighed and pulled him over to the couch, sitting them both down. "Summer called today and told me you told Seth you thought I was going to break up with you and I realized that maybe our relationship isn't as healthy as it should be if you're telling your brother that instead of telling me. So, tell me."

He shrugged, bringing his hand up to rub his suddenly tense neck. "You don't come over anymore," he mumbled, voice barely noticeable. She sighed.

"I was just over yesterday," she reasoned, tilting her head to the side again.

"I mean, you don't come over like you used to. You used to like, come over anytime you had free time. You used to come over while I was out and clean our bathroom."

"So you miss your maid service?" she smiled and he couldn't help smiling back.

"Kinda." She rolled her eyes and hit him lightly on the shoulder. "I miss the wake-up sex, too," he grinned as she tried to look offended – like she didn't used to come over in the mornings and wake him up before his alarm clock. He sighed and the smile faded and hers did, too. "Taylor, when a girl tells a guy she's gonna go back to her place because she's tired – when she knows she can go to his place to sleep… it's never good."

"Alright," she acknowledged, speaking slowly. "That's true. But to be fair, I just wanted some alone time." She held up her finger when he opened his mouth. "Ever since we got back from the beach and Seth and Summer left, you've been… around. And I love you, Ryan, I do. I love hanging out with you and talking to you and having fun, sweaty time with you, but I do – occasionally – like to have some time to myself. And I know _you_ do. But I think you're overcompensating."

"Overcompensating," he repeated, voice flat. What the hell did she mean, 'overcompensating'? Didn't that usually mean…

"This has nothing to do with sex," she scolded, rolling her eyes. "But I know you're all guilty and stuff because I told you I loved you, so I think you've been trying really hard to be, like, the _perfect boyfriend _or something_._ You don't hang out with Jake and Ian anymore, you don't go visit Sandy on your own; you only see him when I'm doing my TA thing. I don't want to be your entire life, Ryan; I just want to be part of it."

He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the blank TV in silence and she – surprisingly – kept her mouth shut as well, letting him think. "I can't…" he started slowly, not looking at her, "I can't say it."

"I'm not asking you to."

"But I think you want me to; even if you won't admit it. I just… can't. But I want you to know…"

"That you _really like_ me?" she raised an eyebrow and he shrugged.

"That makes it sound so lame…" he whined, dropping his head to his hands.

"Well, in comparison, it kind of is, but Ryan, honey, I don't care. Alright, maybe I do, on some level. I mean, it would be... _amazing_ if you loved me back, but you don't, I get it. And I'm ok with it." She sighed, putting her hand on his knee. "If I _needed_ you to say it; if my happiness were dependent on you saying it, you'd know. _Believe_ me."

He had to give her that – if she was determined for him to say it, she'd probably come up with some ridiculous scheme to get him to admit it. She'd probably try to get him drunk or something equally as stupid.

"So… we're ok?" he asked hesitantly, finally looking at her.

"Yeah, we're ok. Now, go out with your friends, have a good time, try not to get too drunk or arrested. I'll be here when you get back."

"Promise?"

"Promise," she grinned. "Jake, Ian, you guys can come out now." His roommates came out in record time, acting innocent, like they _hadn't_ been listening in. Taylor rolled her eyes and stood up, going into their kitchen.

Then she opened one of the cabinets and sighed loudly at the amount of Spaghettios and boxed macaroni and cheese.

"So she's back?" Ian grumbled, picking his jacket off the chair and shrugging it on. Ryan nodded, standing up. "Great, now I have to listen to you guys have sex all the time."

"Hey," Taylor called from the kitchen. "Just for that, I'm gonna scream extra loud from now on." Ryan shook his head and followed Ian out the door, Jake trailing behind. "Oh Ryan?" He turned in the doorway and she grinned. "I love you!"

"Shut up," he grumbled, ducking his head over a smile as they went out.

"Dude," Jake whispered when they were in the hall. "That was so sappy. I never figured you for a _share your feelings_ kind of guy."

"Yeah?" Ryan shot back over his shoulder. "Keep saying stuff like that and you'll find out I'm a _I'll kick your ass_ kind of guy."

* * *

They stumbled in at quarter-past two, him and Ian supporting a very drunk Jake.

Jake was a lightweight – a couple beers and the guy was doing the hula on a table with some giant, tattooed man eyeing him up. He and Ian were buzzed; better at handling the amount of alcohol they'd consumed.

They let Jake fall onto his bed – fully clothed – and went back out into the kitchen. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge as Ian went through the cabinets.

"Hey," Ian's low voice cut through the dark and Ryan turned to him. "I know I made a big thing about Taylor being back, but I didn't mean it."

"It's cool, I know she gets annoying," he shrugged, remembering how Ian would roll his eyes every time Taylor complained about their apartment's maintenance.

"Nah, she's cool," Ian grinned, teeth flashing white in the dark. "She makes you happy, so she's cool. Plus," he nodded toward the cabinets, "she bought us food."

Ian punched him on the shoulder and went into his room, ripping open a box of cereal – that definitely hadn't been there before – as he went. Ryan stayed in the kitchen and opened all the cabinets, shaking his head. She'd gone grocery shopping – she even bought coffee. The good stuff, not the cheap shit Jake was prone to getting.

He made himself a sandwich – they actually had bread now – and headed to his own room, only to find Taylor already there. She was asleep on top of the covers, wearing his soccer jersey and a pair of socks. A laundry basket sat on the bed next to her and he noticed then that his room had been systematically cleaned. He wasn't messy by anyone's standards, but he _did_ have a weird aversion to doing his laundry – it was just so damn tedious. He usually put it off until the last minute.

The laundry basket went on the floor near the closet and he shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth before lying down next to her.

* * *

"So where's Ryan?" Sandy questioned, not looking up from the paper he was grading.

"Oh, we're giving each other space," she said around the pen in her mouth, flipping through his answer book.

"Space?" Sandy looked up finally, quirking an eyebrow. She grinned and rolled her eyes at him in mock annoyance.

"Not like that," she explained. "We just realized we spend _way_ too much time together. He needs to reconnect with his friends and I need to focus on school.

Sandy frowned, suddenly serious, and leaned forward. "Do you have any friends here, Taylor?"

"I have Summer and Seth," she reasoned, shrugging.

"But they're across the country," he argued. "I meant here. And I don't count Ryan."

She bit her lip and shrugged, staring down at the paper in front of her. "I survived twenty years of my life with no friends. I'm perfectly happy right now."

* * *

"Ok," he grinned, pointing up to the sky, "what's that one called?"

"That," she nodded sagely, "is Perseus."

"And that one?" he moved his finger over slightly.

"That's the big dipper."

"Really?" he turned his head to look at her. She bit her lip and shrugged.

"Could be."

"You're a liar," he grinned, turning his head back to look up at the sky.

"Fine, you caught me," she mock-sighed, trying not to smile. "Astronomy isn't my strong point, ok? Plus," she added, thinking, "it's more fun to make up your own constellations."

"Like what?"

"Well, that one kind of looks like a cat," she pointed, trying to outline the stars.

"I don't see it."

"Well, that's because you have no imagination, Ryan."

"I do too," he pouted, rolling onto his side to face her. "Remember that game I made up?"

She giggled, keeping her eyes focused on the sky. "We should play again, when your roommates are out. I bet it'll be a lot more fun in an apartment than in your dorm. Lot's more room to move around."

"More challenging," he nodded.

"More _fun_," she agreed, grinning. "Ian has classes from noon till five tomorrow, right? And Jake works?"

"Yeah."

"We could play then," she shifted to face him and bit her lip.

"I can't," he sighed regretfully, letting his hand trail over her hip. "I have something I have to do."

* * *

"Alright Mr. Atwood, why is it that you wanted to talk to me?"

He rubbed his hands on his pants nervously as he looked around the room, heart pounding in his chest. "Um… for an opinion? You know, an objective one."

"Well, I'm nothing if not objective," the man leaned forward, crossing his legs and placing his folded hands on his knees. "Go on."

"I think I have a problem. Seth calls it my hero complex…"

"And Seth is?"

"My brother. Well, not really – the Cohens took me in when I was fifteen. I have them to talk to, but I think they don't want to meddle too much, you know? I think they're still afraid to tell me what they really think. Which is why I'm here. Summer said her counselor helped her after Marissa died…"

The therapist didn't ask who Marissa was, or Summer. Instead the man sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap and stayed silent.

Ryan took a deep breath before continuing.

_

* * *

_

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	14. Chapter 14

_Well hey, look at me! Less than a month between updates; I'm getting better._

_Anyway, this chapter tried to go really dark, but I hope I kept it… well, not. But it's definitely not as fluffy as some of the other chapters have been._

_I hope you all enjoy!_

_Music: life's not a song; life isn't bliss, life is just this: it's living_

* * *

Therapy, he decided, was completely pointless.

Talking to some guy who just sat there? How did that help? And the therapist – Dr. Kratz – barely even said anything. Ryan had gone to therapy… well, expecting _answers_. He just wanted the therapist to tell him how to fix his life and this stupid hero problem he had. Apparently that wasn't '_what I'm here for'_ – at least according to Dr. Kratz.

Therapy was stupid.

But he wasn't sure why he kept going.

It wasn't like it was actually _helping_…

* * *

"I think you may have a problem," Taylor tried to keep a straight face as Sandy looked up at her.

"A problem?" he asked, reaching across and taking the paper from her hands. "Did someone cheat?"

"No, not cheating," she sing-songed, breaking into a grin. Sandy's eyes scanned the test, eyes widening as he read. She started to giggle, because Sandy obviously saw the same thing she had.

"We're going to put this test away and pretend it never happened, ok?" he put down the paper and looked at her, face completely serious. "No mentioning this to Ryan, or Seth, or Kirsten…"

"You mean your wife?" she giggled. "You don't want your wife to know your student's hitting on you?"

"Sarah is _not_ hitt… you know what? We're not having this conversation."

"But _Sandy_," she giggled, reaching over to grab the test back. "She drew you little hearts over all her i's…"

Sandy grabbed the paper back and shoved it back into his briefcase.

* * *

"Remind me again why Kaitlin's coming?" Ryan sighed, flipping through the channels.

"To help me get ready," she reasoned, frowning when he stopped on a baseball game. "And she's thinking about going to Berkeley next year, so she wants to see the campus."

"Yeah, I doubt she's gonna see much of the campus at a frat party," he grumbled, shifting uncomfortably. She knew how protective he was of Kaitlin – it was so cute.

"But she wants to come, and I don't have any other friends. _Ryan_…" she whined, pouting as best she could until he rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance.

"Fine. Whatever. But she's your responsibility, ok?"

"Yay!" she grinned and clapped her hands in excitement. "Now I just have to figure out what I'm gonna be… Kaitlin said we should be bunnies."

"As long as you don't make me go as a carrot, we're all good," he shrugged. She rolled her eyes right back at him, but didn't push it.

She didn't get why he wasn't excited about Halloween. Getting to dress up as something you're not? That was just plain fun. Plus, with Kaitlin there, they'd have so much fun, and Kaitlin was great at fashion advice. She wanted to look really good for Ryan, so Kaitlin had suggested 'bunny'.

Except she wasn't really sure how a bunny was supposed to be sexy…

* * *

Ryan stood on the roof of the frat house, sipping idly at his drink.

He'd never joined a frat himself, but Ian and Jake were friends with a bunch of the guys in Sigma Nu, so they'd been invited to the Halloween party. Most of the party took place downstairs, but – since he was friends with Ian and Jake – he was at the more exclusive party on the roof. It wasn't like there was anything more illegal going on up here than downstairs, but it was less crowded, with cooler people, and a lot more breathing room.

Plus, this way, he got to watch the front entrance.

He ignored the frightening height of the building and scanned the front of the frat once more. Across the street, there was an abandoned lot where a bunch of the guests had parked, so he figured that's where Taylor and Kaitlin would, too. Taylor had driven out to pick Kaitlin up, and then they'd gone back to her dorm to get ready, then they'd be coming here.

But she was late, and he was starting to get impatient. He didn't like parties, and he really wanted to see her in her costume… Apparently Kaitlin had suggested they be bunnies, and Taylor had been giggling non-stop yesterday after she'd picked up her outfit. She wouldn't show him, but she promised him it would be '_so cool_'.

"Hey, man, you came!" He turned to look at… crap, what was that guy's name again?

"Ed," he sighed, remembering. "Hey."

"We had a bet," Ed jerked his thumb at a couple of the frat guys, who waved. "We didn't think you'd show, cause you're all unsociable."

"Yeah, well, you know Jake," he shrugged, eyes flicking over to where said roommate was trying to hit on Stacey Kemp. It didn't look like it was going well.

"Glad he got you out of the house," Ed punched him on the shoulder. "It's a shame you never joined, though. Chicks _love_ quiet guys."

"I have a girlfriend," he reminded the boy, smiling a little.

"Yeah, and you're all like… loyal. Which would've been awesome, cause you'd attract the girls, and then I could console them when you turned them down…"

"I think you need another drink," Ryan laughed, pushing Ed by the shoulder. Ed gave him a grin and stumbled off to the keg.

He shook his head and turned back to the street…

A figure in the distance caught his eye. He couldn't make out her features, but she was wearing a white leotard with fishnet stockings, a little white tail pinned on her ass and bunny ears on her head. He grinned, leaning on the edge of the building to watch her cross the street.

She was talking on her phone, and a little down the road, a car was swerving unsteadily. He watched it happen in slow motion, breath caught in his throat as the car – most likely piloted by a drunk partygoer – slammed into the girl, sending her sprawling.

His body froze.

His lungs wouldn't work.

He couldn't move.

The car stopped and a boy got out, staggering over to where the girl lay in the road. Ryan was vaguely aware of the boy pulling out his cell to call 911, and others rushing into the street to help.

_Taylor_.

Suddenly, his body caught up with him and he whirled around…

"Taylor!"

"Hi Ryan!" she greeted, grinning.

He froze, eyes wide and staring… at his girlfriend.

"What's wrong?" Kaitlin's bored voice snapped him out of it, and he turned to look at her. She was dressed like the girl in the street had been – black leotard, black bunny ears – but his girlfriend…

Was in a giant rabbit costume, only her face exposed.

"I thought," he shut his eyes tightly and shook his head, opening them again to find… yup, she was still there.

"You make a good Batman," Taylor grinned, completely unaware that she'd almost died.

Well, she hadn't almost died, that hadn't been her, but for a minute, he'd thought…

"Hey!"

Everyone turned to look at Shane Hoffman, the head of the frat, as the music cut off. When they were quiet, he continued.

"Alright, don't panic, but the cops are on their way." Murmuring went through the crowd, and a couple people went white. "Some girl got hit outside, and they called the cops, so they'll be here in a little. The guys downstairs are clearing out, but you're all ok up here. We have an… understanding with them, and they won't bother us if we keep quiet while they're here."

"A girl got hit?" Taylor frowned, as the rest of the rooftop partiers started talking again. "That's so sad."

_Sad_?

For a minute, he could've sworn…

* * *

"I don't get why Kaitlin doesn't like my costume," Taylor pouted as they walked into his dorm. Kaitlin had taken a cab back to her house, and he'd gone home with Taylor – Jake and Ian were coming back later. "She _said_ we should be bunnies. I'm a bunny."

"Yeah, you are," he said, but he didn't really notice the words coming out of his mouth.

After the police had left, the party continued on. He'd danced with his girlfriend, they drank a little – well, Taylor didn't, she was driving and she was a horrible drunk – and then they came home.

"Halloween isn't about dressing all slutty," Taylor continued, white furred hands flying as she spoke. The giant ears on her head flopped around and the huge feet slapped on the ground as she walked.

"You look great," he said and she turned to face him; beaming.

"Thank you!"

He stared at her for a while, not quite sure how to tell her how _thankful_ he was she hadn't been wearing some slutty outfit. How thankful he was she'd gotten to the party a little sooner than that girl…

"So," she grinned, putting her giant bunny hands on his chest. "You wanna rescue me, Batman?"

"No." She recoiled a bit, eyebrows furrowing. He knew it had been a joke, but… "No," he repeated again, shaking his head. "I never… I don't ever wanna rescue you."

"Alright," she tried to laugh, stepping back hesitantly. "You're kind of a suck Batman, then."

She wasn't getting it.

"I'm not explaining it right," he shook his head, trying to clear it. He felt a little fuzzy – panic and alcohol – and he knew he tended to talk more when he was drunk.

"Are we having a serious conversation?" she asked, finally moving to lean against the kitchen counter. "Cause I thought we were talking about sex."

"Serious," he told her, blinking again to focus his eyes.

"Oh. I'm not sure it'll work. I mean, I'm in a big rabbit costume. This is far from serious."

"I have a hero problem," he told her, confusing her even more. He knew he wasn't segueing right, but he didn't care. "I don't wanna rescue you."

She seemed to think about for a while, then her face fell from its attempted smile. "Oh," she breathed. "I see." Then she looked at the floor, shoulders slumping a little. "Would you want to save me if I'd worn the slutty bunny outfit? Cause I could change…"

"What?" he asked, shaking his head when she looked back up at him. "No. I don't wanna _have_ to rescue you. Ever."

"Well, I promise I like… won't play with knives or light myself on fire," she said, tilting her head in confusion and the ears of her costume flopped to the side.

She looked ridiculous.

But she was alive.

He walked forward and kissed her, and she seemed to take that as a good sign. Her big bunny hands slid over the back of his armored costume, and his arms went around her waist. He sighed when he pulled her to him – feeling _her_ through the layers of furred fabric and padding. She hadn't been hit. She was alive; she was ok.

* * *

Her head was swirling. She wasn't _quite _sure what was going on, but he was being really intense and weird. She'd thought he was breaking up with her – because he had a hero complex and he didn't want to rescue her. That couldn't be a good sign.

But he was kissing her – almost desperately – arms wrapped around her, holding her almost _too_ tightly. He pulled back, taking a deep breath before kissing her again, and she ignored that he tasted like alcohol.

He pulled away finally, running his hands up her sides. He cupped her face, and stared at her, tongue darting out to lick his lips and she was momentarily caught up in the movement. Finally he took a deep breath and spoke.

"Taylor," he murmured, voice cracking a bit. Then he shut up, but didn't move away from her.

"Ryan?" she asked, voice low. What was wrong with him? The crazy part of her was still convinced he was breaking up with her, even though the rational part said that a guy wouldn't kiss her like _that_ – say her name like _that_ – if he was going to break up with her. "You're kinda freaking me out," she breathed, trying to laugh a bit to lighten the mood. He didn't take the bait, so the smile slipped off her face again.

"Taylor," he licked his lips, hesitating. "I love you."

She blinked.

Then she frowned.

Then she tilted her head.

The bunny ears flopped to the side.

He seemed to realize what he'd said and his hands dropped from her face.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you drunk?"

"A little," he admitted, backing up a step.

"Uh huh." Then she folded her arms over her chest and stared at him.

"So…" he started, wincing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck, where the Batman mask ended. "Aren't you gonna say anything?"

"Did you mean it, or are you just drunk?"

"I think I meant it," he shrugged, eyes going to the kitchen cabinets.

"Well, how about we have this conversation when you're sober," she suggested, fighting down the urge to either smack him for doing this to her or jump around happily and take full advantage of the bunny costume.

"Yeah." Then he took a deep breath and looked around warily before looking back at her. "Can I kiss you?"

"Sure."

He nodded and leaned forward, kissing her again. She relaxed into it and let the happy fantasy take over; that he really meant it and he wasn't just saying it because he was drunk. She'd have to wait until tomorrow to know for sure.

But still, it was such a _nice_ thought, and she giggled a little, the giddiness taking over.

"What?" he broke away and murmured against her lips.

"Nothing," she grinned, trying to kiss him again. "It's just…" she snorted with laughter and he pulled away slightly, frowning. "We must look ridiculous."

"Way to break the mood," he huffed in annoyance and stalked into his bedroom, and she followed, grinning.

"Oh _come on_, Ryan," she giggled. "Batman and a giant bunny were just making out. That's _ridiculous_."

_

* * *

_

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	15. Chapter 15

_Well, thanks to a day off from work, I got time to write. And hey, I'm back to time-jumping. For a while there all the chapters were very themed. I missed the time jumps of olden chapters. Wow, that sounded very Dickens._

_Anyway, this takes place the morning after last chapter, and ends at Thanksgiving. I also think this is going to be the last chapter, unless I decide somewhere down the line to do an epilogue._

_I'm pretty sure this has been my longest running fic, and I'd like to thank you all for sticking with it; those of you who've read from the beginning, and those of you who joined later. This fic has been my baby, but it's time to let it go._

* * *

She woke up the next morning at a reasonable hour. Next to her, Ryan was still asleep and she figured he would be for a while. Normally he was up every morning at six like clockwork, he'd go for a run, be back and showered by seven, they'd have breakfast and be ready for any classes at eight. But it was a Saturday, so he didn't have to worry about class and she wasn't about to wake him up so he could go running. She figured he could afford to miss one day of exercise.

Especially because it made her feel better.

Honestly, watching her boyfriend go work out every morning really made her feel guilty for not. Ryan never complained – in fact, he seemed to appreciate her body – but still, sometimes she wondered if she should make sure she was in the best shape possible for him.

Maybe if she worked out, he'd have told her he loved her by now.

She shut her eyes tight and shook her head, getting out of bed. She wasn't about to go down that road; not again. Ever since she'd told him she loved him, she'd been constantly asking herself why he didn't love her back. Not that she ever said anything about it – she didn't want to freak him out so bad he'd break up with her. But still, there was always that little bit of doubt in the back of her head – _did he not love her because she arranged her CDs alphabetically by artist and genre? Did he not love her because she had a mild heart attack every time she saw one of those creepy spider things that infested the campus dorms? Did he not love her because she wasn't pretty enough?_

But she wasn't doing that today. Nope. Not her. She wouldn't focus obsessively on it. She wouldn't think about it with every step she took – first to the bathroom, then to the kitchen. She wouldn't make coffee just because she knew he liked it and she hoped he'd come out later, smell coffee, and think _by God, I love this girl._

She wasn't counting last night, either. He'd been drunk, and she wasn't about to go trusting the words of a drunken college boy. God knows she spouted off some weird things when she was drunk – things she'd never meant to say, things she'd only thought in brief passing that had no basis in reality. His little declaration last night could've just been that. Because, in addition to being drunk, he'd also been… _weird_. Like… acting like he thought he was going to lose her or something; in the way he'd held her a little _too_ tight, the way he kissed her a little _too_ hard.

Alright, new plan. She was going to wait until he woke up, and see where things went from there. She wouldn't ask him about it, she wouldn't snoop. She'd just let things progress naturally.

* * *

By the time he woke up, she was watching the tail-end of Saturday morning cartoons on the couch.

"Morning," he grunted, moving into the bathroom. When he came out again, she prepared herself.

"Morning," she said back, quite calmly, thank you very much. "There's coffee in the pot."

He grunted again and she heard some clanking in the kitchen. Finally, he dropped on the couch next to her. "What're you watching?"

"I'm not quite sure," she said, tilting her head at the TV. "I haven't been paying much attention, but the colors are pretty. I think this boy has magic of some kind, but he doesn't know how to handle it, and bad people are trying to get him to use it for bad, and isn't that just the same storyline with _every_ show ever? I mean, honestly…"

"Taylor," her boyfriend groaned, holding up his hand. "It's too early for that."

"It's noon," she shot back, frowning.

"Sorry," he said, but he didn't sound it. Instead he drank his coffee and fixed his eyes to the screen and didn't say anything else.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but refused to start the conversation again. Instead, she turned back to watch, too.

* * *

Ryan stood outside his next class and resisted the urge to slam his head into the wall.

Repeatedly.

On Saturday, he hadn't wanted to have the whole… _love_ conversation while he was hung over. But when his headache had finally gone away, Taylor hadn't said anything about it. Not one thing; she hadn't even hinted.

So then the doubts started. Maybe _she_ didn't want to talk about it? Maybe she'd fallen out of love with him, sometime between now and the last time she'd said it. Maybe she'd never really loved him at all.

All he knew was there was no way he could bring it up now. It'd been three days since that whole debacle, and bringing it up now would just bring up a whole slew of other issues – like why they hadn't talked about it before. He wasn't about to open up that can of worms.

So his new plan was to wait. He'd wait until she said it again, and then he'd know, and then he could find a nice time to say it back – preferably when he wasn't drunk. All he needed her to do was say it again, and they'd be good.

But first he'd actually have to spend more than just lunches with Sandy with her. The only alone time they'd gotten in the past couple days were the minutes or seconds before Sandy would show up.

It was slightly annoying.

* * *

Sandy sighed, looking between his son and his TA. There was a definite tension that he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he suspected Ryan had done something and Taylor had overreacted. It was their normal routine, but it'd never been this… awkward before. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer.

"Do I dare ask?" he tried to joke, laughing a little.

"What?" Taylor looked up, frowning.

"What's bothering you two," he pointed between her and her boyfriend, quirking his eyebrow to let them know he knew _something_ was wrong.

"It's nothing," Ryan grunted, averting his eyes.

"Right," Sandy nodded, agreeing to his son's silent plea to just let this one go.

"Ryan got drunk a week ago and told me he loved me and we said we'd talk about it the next day and he never said anything," Taylor blurted out, glaring across the table at her boyfr… well, who knew what they were anymore?

"_That's_ why you're mad at me?" Ryan asked, slamming down his pencil.

"What did you think it was?" she hissed back, narrowing her eyes even more. "How could you not figure out that's why I was mad?"

"Cause I didn't think you wanted to talk about it," he huffed in defeat.

"Why wouldn't I want to talk about it, Ryan? Hmm? Why? I said we would talk about it the next day, so why wouldn't I want to talk about it?"

"Well, you never said anything," he accused, voice going dangerously low. Sandy wanted to cut in and say something to calm the two, but Taylor got there first. Go figure.

"Because I was waiting for you to say something! And you never did!"

"Well if you wanted to talk about it so bad, why didn't you bring it up? It's been a week!"

"I was trying to give you space and letting you make your own decision," she hissed, folding her arms across her chest, which Sandy didn't take as a good sign. Ryan probably knew he was in dangerous territory, but he could tell his son was just as angry.

"Letting me make my own decision?" he laughed sarcastically, shaking his head. "You getting pissed off and bitchy is giving me space to make a decision?"

"Alright, now you're making me sound irrational!" she unfolded her arms, leaning forward.

"Taylor, you _are_ irrational."

"I am not. I'm rational. I am _full_ of ration."

Sandy opened his mouth, but surprisingly, his son beat him to it.

"That's not even a word," Ryan shot back, annoyed.

"Ration is _so_ a word," Taylor argued – Sandy thought, just for the hell of arguing.

"Not the way you used it."

"You know what, if I'm so irrational, why are you dating me?"

"Cause you put out," he sniped in annoyance. Oh, fantastic move, son, Sandy wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut.

She let out an indignant gasp, standing up and grabbing her bag. "Fine, then. I'm not putting out anymore and I guess you can consider us not dating anymore."

"Fine," he growled.

"Fine!" she hissed back, beginning to stalk away.

Behind her, Ryan stood up off the picnic table bench, glaring at her back. "Oh," he shouted after her angrily, "and by the way, I do love you."

She stopped walking and whirled on him, anger flashing in her eyes. "Well that seems like a big step for us," she yelled.

"Probably," he yelled back, yanking his bag off the ground and shoving his books inside. "We should probably talk about this later."

"Fine."

"Fine."

He stalked off in the opposite direction and she turned back toward her class.

Sandy sat there for a few minutes, trying to decide whether he should be amused or concerned.

Oh well, they'd figure it out.

* * *

He rolled onto his back, breathing hard and trying to blink the sweat out of his eyes. Next to him, she was catatonically staring at the ceiling – eyes glazed over, mouth open slightly, her breathing just as irregular as his.

Finally, when his heart wasn't trying to tear apart his chest anymore, he turned to look at his… girlfriend? He guessed they were still technically broken up – they hadn't exactly _talked_ about anything yet.

"Angry sex is awesome," he breathed, running his hand through his damp hair. Shit, he'd need a shower now. He should invite her along.

"Nice, Ryan," she panted, glaring at him. "We were supposed to talk."

"Well, that worked out well," he snarked. He couldn't tell if he was actually angry, or just trying to piss her off so they could have angry sex again.

"No, yeah, that's great," she huffed, struggling to sit up and get out of bed. "When you _actually_ want to talk, call me."

He rolled his eyes and decided to give up on the sex idea. He wasn't looking forward to it – which was pretty much how the sex started in the first place – but he guessed he'd have to talk now.

He said it. He hadn't been drunk, but he'd been angry when he said it, and for him, that was almost like being drunk. Anger messed with his brain, and even though he'd changed since high school, Taylor was still aware of his problem. She probably _knew_ not to take his words at face value when he was pissed off.

She was looking around for her clothes, and he leaned out of bed and looped his arm around her waist, pulling her back. With an _oof_, she fell back, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

"Alright," he huffed, positioning her so that she was sitting on her knees, facing him. He mirrored the position, facing her, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "You wanna talk?" he asked, rhetorically. "Fine, we'll talk."

She waited with one eyebrow raised as he psyched himself up. Finally she sighed in annoyance, blowing the bangs out of her face. "Ryan, just say it."

"Fine. I love you."

"Are you sure?" she asked, tilting her head.

"I'm not drunk and I'm not angry," he clarified.

"But we're naked."

He rolled his eyes again and threw the sheets over them. "There," he gestured at the cloth covering them. "Oh, look, I don't love you anymore."

"Really?" she asked, like she actually believed it.

"No. Jesus, Taylor, how many times are you gonna make me say it?" Then, slowly, a grin took over her face and he felt his stomach twist.

She'd been doing it on purpose. Not believing any of his _I love you_'s, making him say it again and again… she'd been doing it on purpose. Probably to pay him back for being… well, him, with all his issues.

"Seriously?" he almost whined, frowning.

"Pretty much, yeah," she grinned, leaning forward to kiss him. "Now, you were saying?"

He glared, but he really didn't see any other way to get out of this – or at least any other way that would let him get laid like… now. "I love you," he gritted out.

"Well, that doesn't sound like a happy statement," she shook her head, getting off the bed and throwing his shirt on. He followed, pulling his boxers on and trailing her out to the kitchen. "Let's try it again," she suggested brightly as she poured them coffee.

"I love you," he said, forcing a smile onto his face.

She started to grin, but then it fell, and her brows furrowed in concern. He knew his face must be bright red, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't _good_ at this. And it wasn't really her fault – she probably had no idea how… _hard_ it was, saying those words. It was why he'd never really said it to the Cohens, even though he did. He loved them, but he just couldn't…

"I love you, too," she whispered, putting her cup down on the counter and stepping into him. "Sorry."

"It's cool," he mumbled into the top of her head, setting his cup next to hers and looping his arms around her waist. "I'm trying to work on my issues," he recited, trying to remember his therapist's words.

"Me too," she murmured into his chest, her own arms wrapping around his torso and squeezing him tightly.

He kissed the top of her head and thought that if they ever had children, their kids would be really dysfunctional.

* * *

"Hey, remember Halloween night?" he asked quietly, voice rasping slightly as he brushed the hair off her forehead.

She propped her head up on her hand to look at him better and wanted to laugh. Yeah, there was little chance she was _ever_ forgetting that night. But instead of laughing and breaking the nice little mood they had going, she nodded and let out a soft "yeah."

He didn't smile; he just looked thoughtful – and a little broody – as he stared out the window, over her shoulder. "I thought you got hit that night."

"What?" she asked, dropping her head back to the pillow.

He sighed and focused his eyes back on her. "Remember the girl who got hit? She was wearing a bunny costume. I thought it was you."

"Oh," she frowned, leaning forward to kiss his neck. "Well, it wasn't," she tried to console, lamely. Like he didn't know that…

"I know. And you showed up like, two seconds after, but for those seconds, I thought it was you."

"That's why you were acting weird," she sighed, thinking back.

"Yeah. When you asked, you know? About me saving you? I don't wanna have to do that. I mean, I know I have my whole hero complex but I spent most of my past relationships saving everyone. I don't ever wanna have to save you."

"Ryan," she frowned, shifting closer. "I have a lot of problems. My parents sucked, I never had any friends. I try – really hard – to act as normal as possible." When he snorted, she hit him playfully on the chest and continued on. "It doesn't always work, but I know I have problems."

"It's not healthy for me to keep saving people," he quoted his therapist. She still didn't know he went to see one, but that didn't mean he couldn't quote the man.

"But see," she insisted, sitting up slightly, "I don't think that's true. I mean, yes, it's not healthy for you to risk your safety or health or mental wellbeing to save someone, but if you do it normally? If just being with that person saves them? That can't be bad."

His head jerked back ever so slightly, eyes opening wide as he looked at her. "Taylor…" he started, swallowing hard, doubt clouding his eyes.

"Ryan," she smiled, placing her hand on his jaw, "you do know you've saved me, right? It's not anything you did; you saved me by just… being you."

He looked absolutely stricken and she resisted the urge to tell him he was adorable. Instead she leaned forward to kiss him, then put her head back on the pillow and curled up close to his chest. "Taylor," he rumbled, sounding completely vulnerable, and she flashed back to the way he'd looked when he'd said he loved her. She felt stupid for teasing him about that – she should've known he'd have trouble saying it. And she thought she knew what he wanted to say, so she took pity on him.

"I know," she whispered, wrapping her arms tighter around him until he relaxed. She must've guessed right.

She'd saved him, too.

* * *

"Can you believe we only met a year ago?" she sighed, watching Seth and Ryan duke it out on the TV screen. Summer turned her head, looking thoughtful.

"Really? Seems longer than that."

"I know."

They lapsed into silence, only the screams and machine guns of the videogame making any noise.

It was weird – she'd only known Seth and Summer for a year. She'd only known Sandy and Ryan for a little over a year. She hadn't even been dating Ryan for a full year yet. So much had happened, it seemed incredible that only a year ago, she was hanging out by herself, watching movies and deciding that she would never have any friends, so she might as well give up trying.

But now… now she had friends. Summer and Seth were amazing. They were funny and nice and they actually cared about her, and she cared about them. It sucked that they went to school on the other side of the country, but she was – secretly – holding out faith that after they all graduated from college, the two would move back here.

She honestly couldn't imagine Seth being able to live on the opposite side of the country from Ryan for more than a couple months at a time.

And she had Sandy now, too. He'd almost become a surrogate father to her. He'd never replace her own – he'd never completely fill that gap, but it was a definite step toward fixing the hole it left in her life. Kirsten was wonderful too. She didn't see as much of her as she did Sandy, but the woman was already nicer to her than her own mother had ever been.

They wouldn't ever be her parents – not like they were Seth's; not even like they were Ryan's. But they were adults, and they cared about her, and that meant something.

And who knew, maybe one day, they'd be her in-laws.

Speaking of Ryan… she still couldn't wrap her head around that, sometimes. Sometimes she couldn't believe he was actually with her. He was _perfect_. Sweet, caring, smart, loyal, fantastic in bed. He was everything little girls dreamed of finding, and she couldn't believe she'd gotten it. Sure, he had his issues, but so did she.

Massive amounts of them.

He didn't seem to care about that, though. He said he loved her, and that was with her quirks. Sometimes she felt like she didn't deserve him, and she couldn't believe that if it hadn't been for some freak twist of fate, they'd never have gotten together.

Because if she hadn't written '_I'm so bored_' on her TA application, they probably never would have met.

Sandy'd told her that's why he hired her, because of her note. That had floored her – when he told her that. Because honestly, she'd handed in the application and gone home, mentally kicking herself for being stupid. She'd honestly only written it because Yakuza was coming on one of the HD channels and she wanted to get back to her dorm in time to see the opening credits. Yes, she had it on DVD, but she was insane, so instead of listing her achievements like she knew she was supposed to, she'd hastily written that three word sentence that had changed her life.

She guessed that sometimes, being honest paid off.

Or maybe fate was just on her side with this one.

"Dinner!" Kirsten called up the stairs, and they all stood up, following the smell of turkey and the sound of the Cohens voices downstairs for Thanksgiving dinner.

_

* * *

_

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